THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 


"  Out  of  the  red  flame  that  covered  all  the  sea  and  sky  astern  of 
the  Lurline,  the  burning  steamer  rushed  on  into  the  darkness  that 
loomed  ahead  " 


The 
Typhoon's  Secret 

BY 

SOL.  N.  SHERIDAN 


FRONTISPIECE   BY 
RALPH    FALLEN   COLEMAN 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1920 


COPYRIGHT,    1919,  BY 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OF 

TRANSLATION  INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES 

INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


PS 

'    I  ? 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTBB  PAGE 

I.     A    Great    Smash — and    a    Six-Cylinder 

Green  Flyer 3 

II.     A  Friend  Out  of  the  Dark      ....  14 

III.  The  Face  of  the  World 23 

IV.  There  Are  Bad  People  in  This  World       .  30 
V.     And  Likewise  There  Are  Good  People      .  42 

VI.     A  New  Way  of  Life 49 

VII.     A  Red  Rose  and  the  Old  Life  Ends         .  60 

VIII.     The  Wreck  of  the  Halcyon     ....  71 

IX.     The  Man  Who  Was  Saved     ....  85 

X.     The  Englishman 97 

XI.     Being  a  Letter  from  Mr.  Frederick  Dent 
Upson  to  Mr.  John  Wentworth,  Writ 
ten  to  the  City  of  Manila         .      .      .  110 
XII.     At  the  End  of  the  World         .      .      .      .  116 
Xin.     The  Man  and  the  Hour     .      .      .      .      .  121 
XIV.     A  Friend — and  His  Conscience     .      .      .  131 

XV.     The  Green  Yacht 144 

XVI.     Followed  to  Sea 153 

XVII.     The  Way  of  a  Man — and  the  Way  of  a 

Maid 157 

XVHI.     "Let  Her  Follow  Her  Way"         ...  162 


8138171 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.  Alone  upon  a  Storm-tossed  Sea        .      .  168 

XX.  A  Lurid  Light  upon  the  Sea      .      .      .  176 

XXI.  The  Steamer  on  Fire 181 

XXII!  Into  the  Darkness 188 

XXIII.  The  Menace  ,of  the  Sea  and  Safety        .  193 

XXIV.  An  Artist  in  Cocktails 204 

XXV.  On  Board  the  Green  Yacht        ...  210 

XXVI.  "The  Naval  Supports  Are  Coming  Up"  216 

XXVII.  It  is  the  Neried 222 

XXVIII.  The  Battle  with  the  Formosans       .      .  226 

XXIX.  "His  Name  Is  Norman  Ainsworth  "     .  231 

XXX.  A  Spy — and  a  Game  Chicken    ...  238 

XXXI.  Shadow  and  Sunshine 243 

XXXII.  The  Wicked  Cease  from  Troubling        .  246 


THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 


The  Typhoon's  Secret 

CHAPTER  I 

A  GREAT  SMASH — AND  A  SIX-CYLINDER  GREEN  FLYER 

IF  A  man  can  get  through  college,  and  the  world, 
in  a  six-cylinder  Green  Flyer,"  said  Wentworth, 
"I  will  manage." 

"There  is  nothing  left,  then?"  queried  Allison. 

"There  is  a  rather  complete  wardrobe  besides  the 
Green  Flyer.  And  I  have  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars 
in  my  pocket  at  this  moment.  I  do  not  know  of 
anything  else." 

He  laughed  a  little,  because — well,  because  a  man 
must  laugh  when  he  has  come  to  the  jumping-off 
place.  Then  he  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  from  his 
cigarette  out  into  the  moonlight. 

"Anyway,  it  is  up  to  me  to  go  and  see,"  he  went 
on.  "I  never  knew  much  about  the  Dad's  affairs. 
There  was  always  plenty.  But  the  Green  Flyer 
will  take  me  as  far  as  San  Francisco,  and  with  any 
thing  like  luck  I  should  make  the  run  in  something 
under  twenty  hours.  That  will  land  me  there  before 
sunset  to-morrow." 

"You  mean  to  go  to-night?"  exclaimed  Allison. 

s 


4  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Surest  thing  you  know,  my  boy!  I  must  find 
out  for  myself.  And  the  place  for  my  father's  son 
is  there.  The  Los  Angeles  papers  will  be  here  to 
morrow,  full  of  the  thing.  It  isn't  my  job  to  face 
a  few  gossiping  gazabos  in  a  tourist  hotel  when  there 
is  the  whole  world  to  stand  against." 

He  waved  one  hand,  as  he  spoke,  toward  the 
whirling  crowd  of  beautifully  gowned  women  and 
black-garbed  men  one-stepping  under  the  electric 
lights  of  the  wide  office  and  wider  dining  room  of  the 
Foothills  Hotel,  thrown  into  one  for  the  evening.  It 
was  the  night  of  the  annual  tennis  hop — and  the 
tennis  hoppers  were  hopping  briskly  to  sobbing  music 
played  on  a  violin,  a  bandurria,  and  two  guitars, 
with  drums  to  beat  out  the  time. 

There  was  a  minor  wail  in  the  music  which  it  is 
likely  the  dancers  missed.  The  art  of  one-stepping 
is  altogether  muscular,  very  heating  when  followed 
with  enthusiasm,  and  so  may  well  be  lacking  the 
element  of  the  spirituelle.  But  the  wail  came  plainly 
to  the  heart  of  John  Wentworth.  He  was  conscious 
of  the  nameless  despair  of  it  when  he  called  Frank 
Allison  to  the  porch. 

Wentworth  held  in  his  hand  a  telegram,  just 
brought  to  the  hotel  by  a  special  messenger,  and  he 
showed  it  to  Allison  at  once.  It  was  short  enough, 
but  it  brought  John  Wentworth's  world  about  him 
crashing  in  ruins.  The  Bank  of  the  Pacific  had 
closed  its  doors.  The  President,  Elliot  Wentworth, 
had  swum  out  into  the  sea  from  a  bathing  place  at 


A  GREAT  SMASH  5 

North  Beach — and  had  not  come  back.  That  was 
all. 

As  Wentworth  had  said  that  they  would  be,  the 
Los  Angeles  papers  next  day  were  full  of  it.  Allison 
read  the  whole  story;  and  faced  the  little  world  of  the 
hotel  for  his  friend — as  a  fraternity  brother  should. 

That  night  in  the  moonlight  the  young  men, 
seated  in  big  rocking  chairs  under  the  shadow  of 
the  roses  that  flung  a  golden  glory  over  the  wide 
front  porch  of  the  Foothills,  had  between  themselves 
alone  the  knowledge  carried  in  the  curt  telegram  from 
Elliot  Wentworth's  lawyer.  And  being  young,  the 
impulse  of  both  was  to  go  out  and  meet  and  fight 
the  trouble. 

The  sobbing  Spanish  music  floated  over  them  from 
the  room  where  the  dancers  were  and  out  into  the 
April  moonlight  that  covered  all  the  Ojai  Valley  with 
a  radiance  of  silver.  As  they  sat  on  the  porch,  with 
only  the  plaint  of  the  music  to  steal  across  the  sym 
pathetic  silence  that  had  fallen  between  them  for  the 
moment,  they  could  look  down  into  the  wide  reaches 
of  the  valley,  where  the  sturdy  live  oaks  broke  up 
the  moonlight  to  dapple  with  its  shining  paint  the 
young  grain  in  the  fields,  dark  purple  where  the 
shadows  were.  Right  at  hand,  as  it  seemed,  the 
bare  double  swales  of  the  golf  links  ran  down  to  the 
trees — and,  still  closer,  the  feathery  bloom  of  the 
Colorado  camisa  lay  like  a  light  fall  of  snow  on  the 
branches  of  the  mountain  redwoods. 

Only  there  could  be  no  snow  in  that  warm  valley 


6  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

although  the  moon  showed  a  dazzling  bank  of  it, 
drift  on  drift,  high  on  the  far-away  summit  of  the 
Sisar  Mountain,  as  Went  worth  rose,  at  last,  followed 
by  Allison,  threw  away  his  cigarette,  and  stepped 
down  from  the  porch  to  the  driveway  in  front  of  the 
hotel.  They  were  both  in  evening  dress,  and  were 
fine,  upstanding  lads  as  the  moon  shone  down  on 
them. 

"Come  on,"  said  Wentworth.  "I  suppose  you 
will  see  the  last  of  me,  Frank.  I  must  get  out  of  these 
togs,  and  make  the  Green  Flyer  ready.  We  can 
get  around  to  my  room  the  back  way." 

He  started  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  Allison 
beside  him. 

"You  are  really  going  to-night,  John?"  the  latter 
asked. 

"To-night— no  less." 

"And — and  Miss  Graeme?" 

"This  was  our  dance;  I  had  forgotten." 

He  stopped,  his  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  door  lead 
ing  to  the  back  corridor  and  billiard  room. 

"But  you  need  not  bother  to  make  my  excuses, 
Frank.  They  will  not  be  needed  to-morrow." 

He  opened  the  door  and  passed  through,  traversing 
rapidly  the  length  of  the  short  hallway.  Wentworth 
had  a  front  room;  the  door  was  unlocked,  and  he 
entered  and  snapped  on  the  light.  It  showed  the 
usual  interior  of  a  man's  hotel  room,  an  open  steamer 
trunk  in  one  corner  and  two  suitcases  lying  half 
under  the  bed. 


A  GREAT  SMASH  7 

Allison,  following  him,  naturally  had  more  thought 
for  his  friend  than  the  friend  himself  had.  More 
over,  there  was  a  strange  look  on  his  face  which  the 
other  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice,  perhaps. 

"You  will  not  go  without  seeing  her,  John?**  he 
asked. 

"Margaret  Graeme?"  rejoined  Wentworth.  "My 
dear  boy,  the  son  of  a  banker  might  follow  an  heiress 
from  Coronado  to  this  place.  The  son  of  my  father 
-—is  of  a  different  world." 

He  spoke  bitterly  enough — and  yet  with  a  kind 
of  gentleness,  too.  And  upon  that  gentleness,  Allison 
took  a  friend's  liberty. 

"But  about  her  feelings,  John?" 

"She — she  is  the  heiress,  my  boy.'* 

Allison,  closer  to  him  than  any  man  that  lived, 
left  the  matter  there. 

"And  college?"  he  queried. 

"Goes  with  the  rest." 

"You  have  only  one  semester  to  get  your  degree. 
Man,  think  of  it!" 

"And  what  good  will  the  degree  do  me?  I  cannot 
live  upon  it.  If  I  had  been  a  poor  man  from  the 
first,  and  specialized !  But  what  is  the  use,  now?  " 

"I  have  enough  money,  my  friend,'*  ventured 
Allison. 

Wentworth  had  been  throwing  off  his  dress  suit 
as  they  talked  and,  half  undressed,  he  reached  out 
and  grasped  Allison's  hand. 

"Pack  my  things,  like  a  good  fellow,'*  he  said, 


8  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"while  I  get  into  my  motor  togs  and  go  out  and  wake 
up  the  Green  Flyer." 

Man  fashion,  Allison  began  to  gather  up  his 
friend's  belongings  and  throw  them  into  the  suit 
cases  and  the  steamer  trunk,  saying  nothing  more. 
Wentworth  got  into  heavy  boots  and  khaki  trousers 
and  leathern  coat  and  cap.  Then  he  went  out,  leav 
ing  Allison  still  packing,  and  presently  there  was 
heard  a  soft  chug-chugging  as  the  Green  Flyer  drew 
up  beside  the  stoop  at  the  back  door. 

Wentworth  came  back  into  the  room  a  moment 
afterward,  touched  the  bell  for  a  porter,  and  lighted 
a  cigarette.  Allison  had  the  trunk  packed  and 
strapped  by  that  time,  and  the  suitcases  closed. 

"Sorry  to  have  troubled  you,  old  man,'*  Went 
worth  said,  "but  I  did  not  want  to  call  Brooks.  I 
imagine  my  day  for  valets  and  all  vanities  is  at  an 
end,  now.  Want  him  yourself?  You  are  most  sel 
fishly  unprovided." 

"Brooks?"  queried  Allison,  in  reply. 

"The  same.  You  must  not  judge  him  from  the 
disorder  of  my  room.  He  dressed  after  I  did — 
having  an  affair  of  his  own  on  hand,  perhaps.  He  is 
really  a  good  creature,  in  the  main  orderly,  when 
sober — and  he  can  wear  your  shirts  quite  as  well  as 
mine." 

Allison  laughed,  and  Wentworth  went  on : 

"Anyway,  I  leave  you  to  pay  and  dismiss  him. 
I  don't  owe  him  anything,  really,  but  he  will  probably 
want  his  wages." 


A  GREAT  SMASH  9 

The  hotel  porter  came  and  carried  out  the  steamer 
trunk,  which  he  lashed  to  the  trunk  rack  behind  the 
tonneau  of  the  Green  Flyer — making  a  second  trip 
to  bring  out  and  throw  in  the  suitcases.  Then  he 
went  away,  with  an  order  to  bring  the  manager. 
That  personage,  all  bows  and  smiles,  had  little  time 
to  express  surprise  at  the  sudden  departure  of  his 
guest.  But  he  was  conventionally  courteous. 

"Your  bill  is  not  made  out,  Mr.  Wentworth,"  he 
said,  in  reply  to  John's  question,  "and  the  book 
keeper  has  gone  to  bed,  leaving  the  books  locked  up. 
Shall  I  send  it  after  you?" 

"Give  it  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Allison,"  replied  Went 
worth,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "You  will  see 
to  that  for  me  also,  Frank?" 

"Of  course,"  and  then,  following  down  from  the 
stoop  as  Wentworth  stepped  into  the  car,  "I  think 
you  might  let  me  do  more,  John." 

"Not  another  thing,  dear  boy!  But  I  appreciate 
your  kindness — and  I  will  see  you  in  the  city. 
Good-bye!" 

He  reached  out  his  hand — and  withdrew  it  quickly, 
looking  to  his  control.  Allison  stepped  back.  The 
manager  waved  his  hand  and  cried  farewell.  The 
Green  Flyer,  starting  smoothly  and  slowly,  glided 
around  the  corner  of  the  building,  and  was  gone. 

"Rather  a  sudden  departure,  Mr.  Allison,"  said 
the  manager,  politely. 

"Yes;  a  telegram  called  him  to  San  Francisco 
to-night." 


10  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"He  will  have  a  beautiful  moonlight  ride,"  said 
the  manager. 

Allison  turned  and  walked  back  around  the  house 
toward  the  front  verandah.  The  sobbing  music 
of  the  Spanish  Mazourka  had  followed  the  Green 
Flyer  down  the  hill  road  until  it  was  lost  by  the  driver 
in  the  moonlight — and  had  ended.  The  dancers 
were  coming  out  into  the  night,  laughing  and  chatter 
ing.  A  little  apart,  in  the  shadow,  Margaret 
Graeme's  partner,  the  man  who  had  stepped  into 
her  dance  when  Wentworth  failed  her,  seated  her, 
and  was  sent  for  an  ice.  Allison,  as  he  stepped  on 
the  porch,  saw  her  white  face  peering  out  into  the 
moonlight  as  though  her  eyes  searched  for  someone. 

And  then,  from  far  down  along  the  road  that  led 
men  out  into  the  distant  world,  came  the  wild  shriek 
of  the  horn  of  the  Green  Flyer — like  the  voice  of  a 
lost  human  soul  calling  back  to  the  quick  from  the 
dead.  Allison  saw  Margaret's  face  sink  back  into 
the  shadow  as  he  stepped  forward  and  took  a  vacant 
seat  beside  her. 

Shadows  are  very  kindly  things.  He  told  her, 
there,  of  Wentworth's  call  to  duty — making  the 
excuses  he  had  been  bidden  not  to  make.  And  she 
sighed — and  listened — and  said  very  little.  There 
may  have  been,  in  his  heart,  an  answering  sigh  to  hers 
but  he  repressed  it.  A  man  is  loyal,  in  the  first  trial 
at  least,  if  he  has  red  blood  in  him.  Her  partner 
came  back  with  the  ice  in  a  moment,  and  she  rose, 
and  took  his  arm. 


A  GREAT  SMASH  11 

Allison  had  felt  a  pressure,  the  merest  touch,  of 
one  of  her  hands  on  his  as  she  went  away,  thrilling 
him.  And  the  words  seemed  breathed  to  him,  so 
softly  that  he  was  hardly  sure  that  he  heard  them  at 
all :  "A  woman  watches — and  pursues ! " 

The  last  word  was  like  an  echo,  it  came  so  faintly. 
And  then,  on  her  partner's  arm,  she  swept  into  the 
lighted  room.  And  she  was  smiling  radiantly. 
Assuredly,  shadows  are  very  kindly  things. 

And  the  Green  Flyer  swept  on  down  the  long  hill 
road,  under  the  live  oaks  that  stand  all  about  in  the 
little  town  of  Nordhoff,  and  along  where  the  moon 
light  fell  in  broken  showers  over  the  stretches  of  the 
mountain  stream  that  marks  the  line  of  the  Creek 
Road.  The  lights  blazed  from  the  machine  like  the 
gleaming  of  demon's  eyes.  It  shrieked,  as  it  turned 
the  dark  corners  under  the  trees,  with  a  wail  that 
might  have  been  the  plaint  of  a  lost  soul  in  the  night. 

Wentworth  had  released  the  muffler  as  he  raced 
down  the  slope,  to  try  his  cylinders,  and  the  beating 
of  the  powerful  engine  sent  a  roar  of  sound  into  the 
silence  that  frightened  the  coyotes,  crouching  under 
tne  live  oaks  on  the  distant  slope  of  Sulphur  Mountain 
and  gave  pause  to  the  California  lion  slipping  down 
through  the  shadows  to  steal  a  lamb  from  the  flock  of 
the  Basque  shepherd,  corraled  in  the  scrub  oak 
thicket  beyond  the  uplands  of  the  Santa  Ana.  And 
the  sea  air  sang  in  Wentworth's  ears,  and  the  Green 
Flyer  answered  to  each  touch  of  his  firm  hand  on 
the  steering  wheel  like  a  sentient  thing. 


12  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

His  thoughts  flew  as  the  machine  flew.  Under 
the  visor  of  his  cap  his  face  was  set  and  hard:  the 
fighting  face  of  a  long  line  of  Wentworths,  each  one 
of  whom  had  met  and  conquered  the  world  in  his  time. 
All  but  his  own  father,  he  thought.  All  but  his  own 
father!  And  that  man  he  had  deemed  so  strong. 
Well,  he  did  not  know  that  any  of  the  old  Wentworths 
had  met  and  conquered  disgrace.  He  did  not  know 
that  there  had  ever  been  a  Wentworth  called  to 
face  his  kind  with  his  own  honour  in  ruins  about  him. 
But  it  had  been  a  fighting  line — and  it  culminated 
in  him.  And  he  would  do  battle. 

The  Green  Flyer  crossed  the  last  little  bridge  under 
the  hill  marking  the  course  of  the  San  Antonio  Creek, 
and  swept  out  into  a  wide  and  sandy  valley  between 
high  mountain  ranges.  It  was  bad  going,  but  the 
good  machine  scarcely  paused.  It  climbed  Adobe 
Hill,  now  dry  and  dusty,  and  ran  down  fast  toward 
the  Wishing  Tree — that  stately  sycamore  standing 
beside  the  Ojai  road  in  whose  shadow  Indian  super 
stition  places  a  spirit  that  is  malevolent  only  on 
moonlight  nights. 

Wentworth  smiled  as  he  whirled  by  the  tree.  The 
old  tale  that  no  man  might  pass  that  tree  on  such 
a  night  without  mishap  went  through  his  mind  as 
quickly  as  the  tree  itself  came,  and  was  gone.  Then 
the  Green  Flyer,  for  an  instant,  faced  the  Old  Mission 
Bell  that  marks  the  running  of  the  Camino  Real  of 
the  Padres,  and  swept  around  the  curve  leading  to 
the  Casitas  Pass  bridge  across  the  Ventura  River — 


A  GREAT  SMASH  13 

and,  suddenly,  a  man  seemed  to  rise  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  road.  He  seemed,  too,  to  stagger  to  get  out 
of  the  way,  but  there  was  a  dull  crunching  sound, 
he  went  down,  and  the  front  wheels  passed  over  his 
body.  At  the  same  instant,  so  it  seemed,  there  was  a 
report  like  the  discharge  of  a  pistol;  and  the  heavy 
car  swerved,  and  wobbled,  and  all  but  went  over. 

Instinctively,  Wentworth  had  thrown  out  the 
clutch.  The  Green  Flyer,  checked  in  its  speed, 
staggered  and  stopped.  In  another  moment  the 
driver  had  leaped  out,  and  was  dragging  the  body 
of  a  man,  unconscious,  from  between  the  front  and 
rear  wheels  of  the  car. 

"A  dead  man  likely;  and  a  punctured  tire!" 
muttered  Wentworth,  straightening  up.  "Bad 
enough,  for  a  starter!  Lucky  I  got  that  extra  tire  in 
Los  Angeles!  But  what  the  devil  will  I  do  with  this 
fellow?" 

He  stood,  for  a  moment,  scratching  his  head,  and 
looking  on  the  body  prostrate  in  the  road.  Then  he 
knelt  down,  putting  one  hand  upon  the  man's  breast, 
ancl  holding  it  there  for  a  long  time.  He  caught,  at 
last,  a  faint  pulsation,  growing  stronger,  and  rose  to 
step  over  to  the  car  and  reach  into  the  door  pocket 
for  his  brandy  flask. 

"He  lives!"  Wentworth  said,  aloud.  "Thank 
God!" 


CHAPTER  II 

A  FRIEND   OUT   OF  THE   DARK 

HE  WAS  back  again  beside  the  prostrate 
man  in  a  moment,  just  moistening  his  lips 
with  a  little  of  the  liquor.  There  was  the 
faintest  fluttering  of  the  man's  eyelids  as  he  did 
so,  as  Wentworth  could  see  when  he  turned  his  flash 
light  into  the  other's  face. 

"He  will  come  to  himself,  now,"  he  said.  "I 
wonder  if  he  is  badly  hurt?  And  I  wonder  what  evil 
chance  brought  him  into  the  road  of  the  Green  Flyer 
just  as  I  came  around  the  curve?" 

He  straightened  himself  once  more,  standing  above 
the  man  in  the  dust.  His  situation  was  serious 
enough,  in  all  conscience.  His  own  affairs  called 
him  to  San  Francisco,  and  that  as  speedily  as  might 
be.  Yet  here  he  was,  hardly  started  on  his  way,  his 
destination  four  hundred  miles  distant — held  up 
by  an  injured  man,  he  did  not  know  how  badly  in 
jured,  and  a  punctured  tire.  The  tire,  of  course, 
he  could  take  care  of.  The  injured  man !  How  was 
he  to  be  sure  that  he  would  not  have  to  run  down  to 
Ventura,  losing  several  hours,  to  get  the  help  the  man 
might  need? 

"All  this,"  said  Wentworth,  at  last,  aloud,  waving 

14 


A  FRIEND  OUT  OF  THE  DARK        15 

his  hands  widely  and  with  a  manner  of  politeness, 
"comes  of  that  Indian  devil  who  lives  in  the  tree!*' 

And  then,  just  as  he  spoke,  the  man  stirred  a  little, 
sat  up,  and  tried  to  regain  his  feet,  but  was  too  weak 
for  the  moment.  Wentworth  caught  a  muttered 
question  as  he  leaned  down  to  help  him  rise. 

"Did  the — did  the  Indian  hit  anybody  else,  mate?" 
the  man  asked,  putting  his  whole  weight  upon  Went- 
worth's  shoulder. 

"The  Indian?"  Wentworth  repeated,  puzzled 
for  a  moment — and  then  smiled.  "Oh,  yes;  he  has 
hit  me  rather  a  facer.  But  you  went  down  too  sud 
denly  to  notice  that." 

The  man  had  gathered  himself  together  now,  and 
stood  away  from  the  support  of  Wentworth's  shoul 
der.  He  was  a  big,  loose-jointed  fellow  with  a  strag 
gling  beard  of  a  week's  growth  perhaps.  His  khaki 
coat  and  trousers  were  in  tatters.  There  was  about 
him,  whether  in  the  set  of  his  clothes  or  in  his  carriage 
as  he  stood,  a  nameless  suggestion  of  the  salt  sea. 
And  his  every  line  showed  strength  and  muscular 
activity,  as  does  the  loose,  shambling  build  of  the 
panther.  It  is  a  kind  of  tense  repression  under  a 
misfitting  skin. 

The  man,  as  he  stood,  gathered  his  wits,  slowly. 
He  began  to  feel  his  body,  tentatively,  here  and  there, 
as  though  to  try  the  muscles  one  after  the  other- — 
arms  first,  and  then  legs  and  body.  Wentworth 
thought,  as  he  noted  these  actions,  of  the  athlete 
in  the  ring  who  takes  bodily  account  of  himself  be- 


16  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

fore  battle.  And  he  thought  that  here  was  a  gladi 
ator  who  would  put  up  a  good  man's  fight,  should 
occasion  come.  He  realized,  also,  that  he  himself 
had  a  most  vital  interest  in  this  self-appraisement 
of  the  wayfarer.  For  Wentworth  was  in  a  hurry. 
His  own  concerns  called  him.  The  Green  Flyer 
needed  his  immediate  attention.  It  was  no  light 
job  to  put  on  a  new  tire  without  efficient  help.  And 
here  he  might  be  held  up  with  a  badly  injured  man 
on  his  hands.  And  so  it  was  with  even  more  than 
the  interest  of  the  agent  of  the  injury  that  he  asked, 
seeing  the  big  fellow  feeling  all  his  muscles : 

"Anything  seriously  amiss?  " 

"Why,  I  think  not,  sir,"  replied  the  other,  slowly, 
and  then,  with  a  half -foolish  grin :  "  The  Indian  jarred 
me  a  bit,  but  nothing  to  hurt.  And  there  do  not 
seem  to  be  any  bones  broken." 

"Thank  the  Lord  for  that!"  said  Wentworth, 
fervently. 

"Amen,  sir!" 

"All  the  same,  I  suppose  you  are  pretty  badly 
jarred,"  Wentworth  said. 

"That's  right,  sir,"  agreed  the  wayfarer.  "I 
have  had  worse  knocks  in  my  time,  but  not  many. 
You  surely  came  around  that  corner  with  a  rush, 
sir!" 

"I  was  in  something  of  a  hurry,"  replied  Went 
worth,  "and  am  yet.  But  I  did  not  see  you — until 
the  car  struck  you." 

"And  I  did  not  see  you  until  I  was  struck,  sir. 


A  FRIEND  OUT  OF  THE  DARK        17 

But  I  had  heard  your  horn,  two  or  three  times,  before 
that.  It  seemed  a  long  way  off,  and  I  did  not  pay 
much  attention." 

"Next  time  you  hear  a  horn  at  night,  you  would 
better  keep  out  of  the  middle  of  the  road,"  said  Went- 
worth,  smiling  a  little. 

"Do  they  all  rush  through  here  like  bats  out  of 
Hades?"  asked  the  wayfarer,  grinning  in  his  turn. 

"They  are  apt  to,  when  they  are  running  at  this 
time  in  the  night.  But,  as  long  as  you  are  not  badly 
hurt,  I  suppose  there  is  not  a  great  deal  of  harm  done. 
And  I  am  still  in  a  hurry." 

He  turned  toward  the  Green  Flyer  as  he  spoke, 
opening  the  tool  chest  and  taking  out  his  jack  and 
the  hand  air  pump.  It  was  a  rear  tire  that  had  been 
punctured.  Working  like  an  expert,  Wentworth 
jacked  up  the  axle  and  in  a  moment  was  busily  en 
gaged  in  taking  off  the  injured  tire,  the  wayfarer 
standing  by,  still  tentatively  feeling  of  his  muscles. 

"I  am  something  of  a  mechanic,  sir,"  he  said,  at 
last.  "  What  is  it  that  has  carried  away?  " 

"Tire  punctured!"  replied  Wentworth,  briefly. 
"Know  anything  about  these  machines?" 

"Not  a  thing,  sir.  But  I  am  strong — and  two 
can  do  any  job  quicker  than  one;  where  both  are 
willing." 

He  stooped  beside  Wentworth  as  he  spoke,  and 
his  greater  strength  was  applied  to  the  loosening  of 
the  tire  so  effectively  that  it  came  away  very  quickly . 
In  another  moment  the  new  tire  had  been  taken  from 


18  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  rack  on  the  running  board  of  the  Green  Flyer, 
adjusted  in  place,  and  the  pump  brought  into  action. 
II<  n\  once  more,  the  greater  strength  of  the  stranger 
showed  itself — although  Wentworth  was  hini.-v-lf 
an  athlete.  More  quickly  than  the  thing  had  ever 
IH-CII  done  before  with  the  Green  Flyer,  the  tire  was 
hard  and  tested,  and  Wentworth  had  gathered  his 
tools  and  thrown  them  back  into  the  chest. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  preparing  to  crank  the  Green 
Flyer,  "what  is  to  be  done  with  you?" 

"Haven't  you  done  enough  to  me?"  asked  the 
wayfarer  at  this,  in  a  kind  of  whimsical  tone.  "Want 
me  to  stand  up  in  the  road  and  be  hit  again?" 

Wentworth  laughed  at  this  and  it  did  him  good. 
"I  did  not  mean  that,"  he  said,  at  last.  "But  if 
you  are  badly  hurt,  it  would  be  my  duty  to  take  you 
to  the  hospital  at  Ventura — and  that  would  mean 
delay,  when  I  am  in  a  great  hurry." 

"You  need  not  bother  about  me,"  said  the  other, 
earnestly.  "I  am  not  hurt  at  all,  only  jarred  a  little. 
And  I  will  shape  my  course  to  the  next  port,  just 
the  same  as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  not  met  you 
— and  the  Indian,  sir." 

"Did  you  expect  to  find  a  port  here  in  the  moun 
tains?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"Why,  no,  sir;  but  they  told  me  that  this  was  the 

road  to  Santa  Barbara,  and  I  was  making  a  course 

tlmt,  way.     Of  course  I  could  not  make  the  same  way 

that  you  make  in  the  machine  here,  and  so  I  was 

rig  about  for  a  plare  to  turn  in  and  get  a  bit  of 


A  FRIEND  OUT  OF  THE  DARK        19 

sleep,  when  you  came  along  so  fast  that  I  could  not 
get  out  of  the  way." 

Went  worth  cranked  the  machine,  and  came  back 
to  step  into  the  driver's  seat.  The  man  puzzled  him 
a  little,  although  it  was  of  course  plain  enough  that 
he  was  a  seafarer.  But  there  was  that  about  him 
which  led  Wentworth  to  think,  somehow,  that  he  was 
from  a  position  aft  the  mast — not  a  common  sailor. 
If  that  impression  were  well  founded,  what  had 
turned  the  man  into  a  tramp?  Seafaring  men  with 
officers'  papers  were  not  found  in  the  ranks  of  tramps 
ashore;  at  least  not  often.  And  they  seldom  showed 
the  hard  usage  that  was  evident  in  the  appearance 
of  this  stranger.  Wentworth  turned,  his  foot  on 
the  running  board,  as  he  would  have  stepped  into 
the  car. 

"What  did  you  leave  your  ship  for,  anyway?" 
he  asked,  plumping  the  question  at  the  other  sud 
denly. 

"My  ship?"  parried  the  stranger.  It  was  clear 
enough  that  he  did  not  like  the  question. 

"Sure!  Your  ship?  You  are  a  sailor,  plain 
enough.  Why  did  you  turn  hobo,  then?  You  will 
never  succeed  at  that  trade." 

"Too  many  Indians  about,  eh,  sir?" 

"Well,  too  many  Indians,  and  motor  cars.  It  is 
sometimes  difficult  for  a  man  unused  to  shore  roads 
to  keep  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  don't  much  believe  I  ever  will  make  a  go  of  this 
business  of  tramping  ashore,"  admitted  the  stranger. 


20  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Of  course  you  won't.  But  why  did  you  leave 
your  ship?" 

The  sailor  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  fence  any  more. 
"That  is  rather  a  long  story,  sir,"  he  replied.  "But 
she  was  hell  ship,  in  a  perfectly  polite  way,  sir.  That 
is,  the  Captain  in  her  was  a  devil — a  kid-gloved  devil — • 
expecting  the  mates  to  do  his  dirty  work,  and  seeing 
that  they  did  it.  And  I  dropped  over  the  side  one 
night,  down  in  Pedro,  and  swam  for  it.  Then,  be 
cause  I  must  strike  away  from  that  port,  first  I  began 
to  tramp  it,  heading  up  for  Santa  Barbara,  where  I 
might  get  a  coaster  to  San  Francisco.  And  here  I 
am.  But  the  land  is  harder  than  the  sea,  sir,  at 
that." 

"This  is  your  first  try  at  tramping  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Got  any  money?" 

"No,  sir,  and  no  dunnage.  Of  course  I  forfeited 
my  pay  when  I  went  over  the  side — and  left  all  my 
clothes  aboard." 

"How  did  you  live?" 

"Well,  a  woman  put  me  to  chopping  wood  for 
my  breakfast  this  morning,  back  there  in  Ventura — 
and  I  lifted  a  few  carrots  out  of  a  field  along  the  road. 
But  it  was  slim  picking,  and  they  keep  a  lot  of  big 
dogs  in  this  country.  A  fellow  isn't  safe  to  walk  any 
where  but  along  the  railroad  track." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  want  me  to  carry  you  back 
to  Ventura?"  asked  Wentworth,  tentatively. 

"No,  sir;  that  would  not  gain  me  anything.     I 


A  FRIEND  OUT  OF  THE  DARK        21 

will  just  cast  about  here  a  bit  for  a  barn  or  shed  of 
some  kind,  and,  if  the  dog  will  let  me  in,  will  make 
shift  to  sleep  this  watch  out." 

Wentworth  smiled  a  little.  "What  is  your  name?  " 
he  asked. 

"Felix  McGreal,  sir." 

It  was  so  plainly  an  honest  answer  that  Wentworth 
accepted  it  at  once. 

"You  say  that  you  want  to  get  to  Santa  Barbara?  " 
was  the  next  question. 

"I  stand  a  chance  to  get  a  coaster  out  of  there  for 
San  Francisco,"  replied  McGreal. 

"You  would  not  have  done  better  to  stay  in  San 
Pedro;  would  it  not  be  better,  even  now,  for  you  to 
head  back  that  way?" 

"They  would  have  hauled  me  up  for  a  deserter, 
as  long  as  the  ship  was  there,  sir.  She  is  gone,  now; 
and  to  San  Francisco,  at  that.  But  she  will  be  out 
of  there  before  ever  I  can  make  a  landfall  on  the  Bay. 
And  a  man  stands  a  better  chance  of  a  ship  in  the 
north.  Pedro  is  not  much  more  than  a  coastwise  port, 
sir,  when  all  is  said." 

"Hm!"  exclaimed  Wentworth.  "My  present 
course  runs  to  San  Francisco.  You  are  sure  you 
are  not  badly  hurt?  " 

"Certain  sure,  sir." 

Wentworth  was  seated  at  the  wheel  of  the  Green 
Flyer  and  the  engine  was  purring,  impatient  to  be  away. 
"Jump  into  the  tonneau,  there,"  he  said.  "It  is 
the  duty  of  one  poor  man  to  help  another,  and  I  owe 


22  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

you  a  good  turn,  anyway.  I  will  take  you  with 
me." 

The  sailor  walked  around  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Green  Flyer  and  stepped  into  the  vacant  seat 
beside  the  driver. 

"It  isn't  seemly  that  I  should  man  the  quarter 
deck  when  the  skipper  is  forward,"  he  said. 

"Well,  the  front  seat  rides  easier,"  said  Wentworth, 
with  a  smile. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  FACE  OF  THE  WORLD 

THE  Green  Flyer  started  ahead  very  smoothly 
and  easily.  The  next  moment  she  was  sweep 
ing,  with  wild  shrieks,  around  the  sharp  curves 
under  the  dark  shadows  of  the  oaks  that  line  the 
beautiful  Casitas  Pass  Road.  Trees  and  the  over 
hanging  limbs  of  trees  started  out  of  the  darkness 
ahead  in  the  glare  of  the  lights,  came  up  fast,  and 
dropped  behind  among  the  shadows.  Chuck  holes 
in  the  roadway  yawned  in  front  of  the  machine  like 
wide  chasms,  and  smoothed  themselves  into  the 
general  level  of  the  dust  as  the  lightly  running  car 
skimmed  over  them. 

The  two  men  in  the  car  passed  one  or  two  dark 
farmhouses,  seen  dimly  under  the  shelter  of  the  trees, 
and  once  a  belated  farmer  pulled  his  terrified  horses 
in  close  to  a  high  bank  to  let  them  whizz  by.  Went- 
worth  heard  him  shout  a  curse  as  the  Green  Flyer 
flashed  along,  almost  grazing  the  hind  wheels  of  his 
spring  wagon,  and  was  amused  to  see  the  sailor  lean 
far  out  and  send  astern  of  them  a  stream  of  the  easy- 
running  profanity  of  the  sea. 

And  then  they  had  passed  the  first  summit  of  the 
Casitas  Pass,  and  the  second;  and  run  swiftly  down 

23 


24  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  narrow  canon  of  Casitas  Creek  into  the  broad 
and  fertile  orchard  lands  of  the  Carpenteria  Valley. 
Santa  Barbara  went  by  in  the  night,  blinking  with  a 
thousand  electric  lights,  and  the  long,  steep  pass  of 
Gaviota,  and  the  wind-swept  reaches  that  lie  beyond 
Point  Concepcion.  They  saw  the  sea  break  white 
there  in  the  waning  moonlight;  and  the  red  rim  of 
Santa  Rosa  Island  lying  behind  them  across  the 
channel  in  the  pathway  of  the  dawn. 

They  breakfasted,  very  early,  at  the  hotel  of  Paso 
Robles,  under  the  spreading  white  oaks,  and  then  ran 
down  the  long  valley  of  Soledad  and  the  Salinas  to 
come  into  the  low  hills  that  would  open  to  them  the 
Santa  Clara  Valley  and  the  San  Francisco  Bay  region. 
Neither  slept  all  through  the  night,  and,  as  the  day 
strengthened,  sending  over  the  mountains  a  flood 
of  imperial  purple  sunshine,  they  fell  into  desultory 
talk  although  for  the  most  part  both  seemed  to  have 
enough  of  thought  to  keep  them  silent.  It  was  in 
one  of  these  scraps  of  talk  that  Wentworth,  harping 
back  to  how  the  other  had  happened  to  turn  tramp, 
said  to  the  sailor : 

"What  was  the  story  of  leaving  your  ship?" 

"She  was  a  hell  ship,  sir;  every  way." 

"A  hell  ship?  I  have  heard  of  hell  ships.  The 
Captain  beat  you,  I  suppose,  and  the  food  was  poor, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it?" 

"The  food  was  bad  enough,  sir.  And  she  was 
black-birding,  and  contraband  trading,  and  fifty 
things  against  the  law.  There  was  none  of  us  in  any 


THE  FACE  OF  THE  WORLD  25 

way  particular  about  small  matters  so  long  as  we 
did  not  have  to  take  the  blame  for  anything  but  obey 
ing  orders.  And  the  Captain  did  not  beat  me.  I 
was  the  second  mate  in  her,  d'ye  see,  sir!  But  that 
Captain  was  a  kid-gloved  devil,  with  the  capacity 
for  murder  in  his  soul,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  no 
man  could  go  officer  in  that  ship  who  was  not  willing 
to  take  the  same  burden  on  himself.  I  couldn't  do 
all  he  wanted  anyway,  sir." 

"So  you  left  him,  and  turned  tramp  to  get  another 
ship?  I  suppose  you  will  make  it  in  San  Francisco, 
all  right.  But  you  must  know  by  this  that  a  sailor 
has  no  place  on  shore  roads." 

"Not  with  Indian  devils  and  gasolene  devils  loose 
in  the  moonlight,  sir." 

Wentworth  laughed,  giving  the  wheel  a  quick  turn 
to  miss  a  boulder.  "The  Captain  wanted  you  to 
abuse  the  sailors,  I  suppose?"  he  said. 

"That  was  part  of  it — although  he  was  a  full  hand 
at  that  himself,  sir." 

"What  ship  was  it?" 

"She  was  a  steamer,  a  tramp  out  of  Glasgow. 
The  Halcyon:' 

"And  the  master's  name?" 

"Captain  Robert  Graeme,  sir." 

" She  is  not  in  Pedro  now,  you  say?  " 

"No,  sir;  she  sailed  for  the  north  a  week  ago.  And 
that  was  a  start  on  a  cruise  of  a  kind  that  I  want  no 
hand  in,  sir." 

"What  kind?"  asked  Wentworth. 


26  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"  That's  the  story,  sir.  It  was  the  old  man's  affair. 
He  told  me  a  part  of  it,  but  it  was  only  because  he 
must  keep  his  own  hands  clean  when  it  came  to  the 
actual  devil's  doings.  He  needed  help,  but  he  had  to 
get  another  man  for  that  job,  anyhow.  I  do  not 
mind  lifting  a  carrot  out  of  a  field,  now  and  again; 
and  maybe  I  might  go  so  far  as  to  pick  up  a  chicken, 
if  the  roost  were  handy,  and  no  dogs  about.  And 
when  it  is  owner's  orders  I  am  not  above  standing 
in  for  a  tropic  island  and  taking  a  load  of  niggers  to 
the  sugar  mills,  if  that  comes  in  the  day's  work. 
But  the  helping  away  of  wholesale  robbers  with  the 
loot  of  women  and  children  is  not  my  game,  sir." 

A  wild  thought  crossed  Wentworth's  mind  for  a 
second — and  went  the  way  of  most  wild  thoughts. 
After  that,  he  did  not  pursue  the  matter  of  the  sailor's 
tale,  and  silence  fell  in  the  car.  The  Green  Flyer 
swept  on.  At  San  Jose  they  got  the  San  Francisco 
morning  papers,  and  Went  worth  took  time  to  glance 
at  the  headlines  while  the  car's  tank  was  being  filled 
at  a  roadside  garage.  They  told  him  plenty  in 
that  one  glance  to  give  him  a  bracer  for  the  battle 
that  opened  for  him  that  day — the  battle  whose  field 
he  was  so  swiftly  approaching. 

The  sailor,  McGreal,  scanned  the  papers  more 
closely,  holding  the  sheets  before  him  for  many  miles 
after  the  car  was  started  on  its  way  once  more. 
Wentworth  smiled  a  little  grimly,  noting  this,  but 
he  said  nothing.  McGreal,  like  all  the  world,  had 
his  interest  in  the  great  defaulter.  If  Wentworth 


THE  FACE  OF  THE  WORLD  27 

likewise  noticed  that  the  sailor  ventured  no  comment 
on  the  matter  that  he  read  with  such  interest,  it 
was  not  for  him  to  open  the  subject.  The  Green 
Flyer  was  running  very  swiftly,  and  the  mahout 
might  well  be  busy  with  his  car. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  nineteen  hours  out 
from  the  Ojai,  the  Green  Flyer  rolled  through  the 
doors  of  that  public  garage  in  lower  Golden  Gate 
Avenue  which  Wentworth  had  theretofore  favoured 
with  his  casual  patronage  when  he  did  not  want  to 
take  the  car  home. 

"Hullo,  Mr.  Wentworth!"  cried  the  proprietor, 
coming  forward  and  rubbing  his  hands  together. 
That  was  John  Wentworth's  very  first  meeting  with 
this  Chinese  form  of  salutation  in  his  own  city. 
Many  fair-weather  friends  would  shake  their  own 
hands,  from  that  time  forward,  in  place  of  shaking 
his.  And  there  was  a  sting  in  it  the  first  time. 

Wentworth  saw,  also,  that  the  two  or  three  dissolute 
looking  loungers  about  the  place  started  at  the  men 
tion  of  his  name,  looked  at  him,  and  then  looked 
away  again  quickly.  But  he  did  not  see  that  the 
sailor,  McGreal,  turned  and  gave  him  one  swift 
glance.  It  all  passed  in  a  second. 

"Hullo,  Sprocket!"  he  said,  answering  the  pro 
prietor  very  quickly,  after  his  own  manner. 

"Shall  I  put  up  the  Green  Flyer,  sir?"  asked 
Sprocket. 

"For  the  present.  I  won't  want  the  car  again 
this  afternoon.  And  I  will  send  for  the  things." 


28  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Brooks,  sir?" 

"No.     The  hotel  people  will  come  forthem,  likely." 

"Had  a  long  drive,  sir?" 

"Four  hundred  miles.     From  Ventura." 

"And  the  car  never  heated,  sir.  I  heard  you  were 
in  the  south." 

"Yes;  the  town  seems  to  have  been  pretty  well 
advised  as  to  my  movements — up  to  last  night." 

Wentworth  had  stepped  out  of  the  car  and  started 
for  the  street  as  he  spoke.  McGreal  followed  him. 
One  of  the  loungers,  as  they  passed  through  the  big 
doors,  fairly  leaped  for  the  telephone  booth,  and  the 
sailor  coming  back  to  get  one  of  the  morning  papers 
from  the  tonneau  saw  the  action.  McGreal  heard 
the  man  in  the  booth  ask  for  a  newspaper  office,  and 
went  out  again  at  once,  overtaking  Wentworth  at 
the  corner  of  Polk  Street.  He  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder  as  he  came  close  to  him. 

"I  suppose  that  we  go  about,  each  on  his  own 
course,  here,  sir,"  he  said,  as  Wentworth  turned 
quickly  to  face  him. 

"Why,  yes,"  agreed  Wentworth.  He  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  as  he  spoke,  and  took  out  a  five-dollar 
gold  piece,  which  he  handed  to  the  sailor.  "That 
will  see  you  to  a  ship,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir;  thank  you!"  replied  McGreal. 

"And  so,  good-bye!"  Wentworth  went  on.  "I 
suppose  it  isn't  any  use  to  warn  you  again  against 
the  hobo  business.  You  must  know  you  can  never 
succeed  in  that  trade.  As  we  part  courses,  I  will 


THE  FACE  OF  THE  WORLD  29 

wish  you  luck,  and  hope  that  you  will  keep  to  a  trade 
that  you  can  make  a  go  of." 

"And  I  wish  you  luck,  sir,"  the  sailor  said.  "I 
thank  you  for  everything,  sir;  and,  if  you  would  let 
me  make  a  suggestion,  Mr.  Wentworth,  take  a  new 
lodging.  Do  not  go  home  to-night." 

"Why?" 

"I  saw  one  of  those  seedy  chaps  in  the  auto  dock 
jump  for  a  telephone  as  soon  as  we  left  the  place  and 
the  connection  he  asked  for  was  a  newspaper  office, 
sir." 

It  seemed  to  Wentworth  that  the  sailor  looked  at 
him  somewhat  wistfully  as  he  spoke,  as  if  he  would 
have  said  something  more,  and  did  not  exactly  know 
how  to  go  about  the  saying  of  it.  But  the  impression 
— it  was  no  more  than  an  impression — passed.  He 
shook  hands  with  McGreal,  thanked  him,  and  turned 
away. 

"So!  So!"  he  exclaimed  to  himself.  "They 
are  on  my  track  already!  Well,  my  sailor  friend, 
I  did  not  come  here  to  hide.  The  sooner  the  hounds 
find  me,  the  better  I  will  like  it." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THEEE   ARE    BAD    PEOPLE    IN    THIS    WORLD 

WENTWORTH  walked  rapidly  down  Golden 
Gate  Avenue,  leaped  on  a  car  at  Market 
Street,  and  rode,  standing  amidst  the  crowd 
in  the  open  part,  to  the  corner  of  Montgomery. 
He  could  catch  glimpses  of  the  flaring  headlines  of  the 
evening  papers  being  read  by  the  people  in  the  car — 
headlines  telling  the  story  of  the  bank  failure.  The 
men  in  the  crowd  about  him  spoke  of  it,  in  discon 
nected  fashion,  after  the  manner  of  men  in  crowds. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  city 
were  full  of  it. 

And,  indeed,  San  Francisco  had  reason  to  be  in 
terested  in  the  smash  of  the  great  bank.  The  failure 
had  been  for  millions  and  there  were  more  than  hints 
of  dishonour  in  it.  Elliot  Wentworth,  a  pillar  of 
high  finance  on  the  Pacific  Coast  and  in  the  nation, 
philanthropist  and  reputed  plutocrat,  was  gone. 
The  thousand  stricken  with  poverty  because  of  his 
going  had  not  even  the  satisfaction  of  facing  him, 
man  to  man,  to  cry  their  losses. 

It  had  been  his  daily  habit,  after  banking  hours, 
to  take  a  dip  in  the  bay,  patronizing  a  certain  bath 
ing  establishment  at  North  Beach  where  he  had  his 

30 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  31 

own  locker.  That  day  of  the  failure,  leaving  the 
bank  at  noon,  a  full  three  hours  before  his  usual  time, 
he  had  gone  straight  to  the  beach,  put  on  his  bathing 
suit,  dived  from  the  end  of  the  short  pier  fronting  the 
house,  and  struck  out  toward  Alcatraz.  The  tide 
was  then  running  out  like  a  river,  but  he  was  a 
strong  swimmer,  and  known  to  be.  Nothing  was 
thought  of  that,  therefore. 

The  bath  house  keeper  attempted  an  exchange  of 
pleasantries  with  the  banker  as  had  been  the  habit 
between  them,  rallying  Wentworth  on  his  early 
visit.  And  the  man  remembered,  afterward,  that 
Wentworth  had  regarded  him  after  the  manner 
of  a  man  dazed  and  had  replied  to  him  strangely. 

"The  sea  calls  me!"  he  had  cried,  looking  back 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  swam  away,  borne  swiftly 
the  while  by  the  tide  running  out  to  sea.  "I  must 
find  myself — out  there!" 

Down  in  the  city,  after  the  business  men  had 
lunched  with  their  usual  fever  and  hurry,  rumour 
got  about.  Men  asked  for  Wentworth  and  none 
knew  where  to  find  him.  There  were  meetings  of 
directorates  where  he  was  due  and  did  not  appear. 
At  about  two,  or  possibly  a  little  before  that  hour, 
the  first  edition  of  the  Bulletin  came  out.  The  keeper 
of  the  bath  house  at  North  Beach  telephoned  police 
headquarters  a  few  minutes  later. 

Within  an  incredibly  short  time  the  Bulletin  came 
out  with  an  extra.  Ten  minutes  after  that,  Bush 
and  Pine  streets  all  below  Kearny  were  blocked  by 


32  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

shouting,  gesticulating  crowds  of  madmen.  The 
Stock  Market  had  closed  for  the  day  at  noon,  but 
the  brokers  gathered  on  the  curb,  and  mining  shares 
went  crashing  down.  Everything  was  thrown  away ! 
Thousands  were  ruined.  Other  thousands  saw  them 
selves  saved  only  by  the  circumstance  that  the  banks 
closed  early. 

There  was  a  run  on  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific,  and 
nothing  but  the  coming  of  the  usual  closing  hour 
saved  the  institution  for  that  day.  The  directors 
were  summoned  hastily.  The  bank's  vaults  were 
found  absolutely  bare  of  coin  save  for  the  few  thou 
sands  used  in  the  daily  transactions.  Securities 
that  should  have  counted  for  millions  were  gone,  none 
could  tell  whither.  Nothing  could  be  done  to  pre 
vent  the  next  day's  disaster,  and  only  the  efforts 
of  a  score  of  policemen  kept  back  the  yelling  maniacs 
who  seemed  about  to  tear  the  massive  building  stone 
from  stone  when  the  heavy  bronze  doors  were  closed 
for  the  night  in  the  faces  of  the  crowd.  The  city 
went  to  bed  that  night  in  such  deep  gloom  as  might 
have  followed  another  earthquake  disaster.  Indeed, 
it  was  a  deeper  gloom.  There  was  a  certain  grim 
kind  of  humour  in  the  mood  after  the  earthquake. 

It  seemed  to  John  Wentworth,  alone  in  the  crowd 
on  that  car,  that  the  atmosphere  of  the  failure  was 
pressing  upon  him,  smothering  him.  It  would  have 
been  a  relief,  at  the  moment,  to  meet  a  man  he  knew, 
to  stand  up  and  make  a  physical  effort  against  the 
moral  force  that  was  bearing  him  down.  But  at 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  33 

that  hour  there  would  be  no  one  he  knew  on  a  car 
bound  toward  the  ferries.  His  world  was  going  up 
town  to  the  Club,  pulsing  along  the  lighted  streets 
toward  the  haunts  of  the  pleasure  loving. 

He  must  begin  his  fight  as  soon  as  he  could,  facing 
the  world  on  behalf  of  that  father  who  was  so 
strangely  gone;  and  he  would  begin  it  with  his  father's 
lawyer,  who  was  likewise  the  attorney  for  the  bank 
and  likely  to  have  retained  that  connection  by  pref 
erence.  The  lawyer,  ordinarily  at  his  home  on 
Pacific  Heights  at  that  hour  of  the  day,  would,  in 
the  present  stress,  be  more  likely,  Wentworth  felt, 
to  stay  late  at  his  office. 

Leaving  the  car  at  the  corner  of  Montgomery, 
Wentworth  strode  along  that  narrow  thoroughfare 
toward  the  lofty  Mills  Building.  He  was  in  the 
financial  district  now.  He  rubbed  shoulders,  as  he 
made  his  way  against  the  set  of  the  crowd,  with  many 
men  who  knew  him.  Some  of  these  even  stopped, 
for  a  second  or  two,  to  look  after  him  as  he  plunged 
along.  But  he  had  drawn  his  cap  over  his  eyes, 
dressing  his  soul  for  battle,  and  had  picked  the  field 
on  which  he  would  fight.  He  walked  swiftly,  with 
bent  head,  intent  on  pushing  forward  against  the  keen 
wind  that  set  along  the  street  from  the  northwest, 
bearing  ghostly  streamers  of  fog  that  were  only  partly 
distinguishable  from  the  dust  clouds  whirling  before 
it.  And  so  he  saw  nobody. 

Once  he  was  hailed.  A  youngster,  aping  the  real 
men  who  swam  along  the  Cocktail  Route  every  even- 


34  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

ing,  and  who  had  been  a  teller  in  the  bank,  paused 
on  entering  the  elaborately  scrolled  screen  doors  of 
a  saloon  to  shout  his  name,  and  an  invitation  to  drink . 
But  Wentworth  only  looked  backward,  waved  his 
hand,  and  went  on. 

As  he  had  surmised,  the  big  suite  of  offices  of 
Chester,  Wiley  &  Chester,  occupying  the  entire 
seventh  floor  of  the  Mills  Building,  was  alight,  alive, 
and  busy.  The  boy  in  the  anteroom  took  his  card, 
and  came  back  almost  at  once  to  inform  him  that 
Mr.  Chester  the  elder,  Mr.  William  Chester,  was 
within  and  would  see  him.  As  he  had  been  there 
often,  and  knew  the  way,  Wentworth  then  passed 
through  the  door  leading  to  the  corridor  from  which 
opened  the  private  offices  of  the  firm.  He  was  going 
straight  to  Mr.  William  Chester's  particular  den 
when  the  old  gentleman  himself  came  out  quickly 
and  led  him  into  another  room,  one  of  the  consulta 
tion  rooms  of  the  firm. 

Wentworth  was  close  enough  to  the  door  of  the 
old  lawyer's  private  office  as  that  gentleman  came 
out  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  group  of  men  seated  there 
in  some  sort  of  conference.  Several  of  them  he  knew 
— elderly  men  who  had  been  his  father's  financial 
and  social  intimates,  men  whose  names  were  a  power 
in  the  money  world  and  of  weight  in  the  Pacific  Union 
Club. 

Then  the  door  was  closed,  and  in  another  moment 
Wentworth  found  himself  alone  in  an  apartment 
with  Mr.  Chester.  The  lawyer  was  a  short,  cold, 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  35 

gray  man — he  might  have  been  sixty  or  more — clean 
shaven,  perfectly  appointed,  with  a  waxy  white  face 
that  was  like  a  stone  mask.  You  would  have  said 
that  Father  Time  must  have  taken  a  sharp  chisel 
to  grave  the  lines  in  it,  and  at  that,  the  lines  were 
few,  and  not  deeply  graven.  And  yet,  despite  its 
lack  of  lines,  the  face  was  not  devoid  of  expression. 
It  was  not  a  kindly  face,  certainly.  Nothing  that 
came  from  it,  no  ray  from  the  cold  gray  eyes  nor  any 
trembling  geniality  in  the  thin  lips  or  the  firm  chin, 
touched  any  chord  of  human  sympathy.  But  neither 
was  it  coldly  repellent.  It  was  the  face  of  a  man  who 
bade  the  world  stand  and  give  the  countersign. 

It  was  entirely  characteristic  of  this  man  that  he 
did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  with  his  young  visitor. 
He  sat  down  in  a  revolving  chair  behind  a  flat-topped 
desk  standing  in  the  room  to  which  he  had  led  Went- 
worth,  and,  being  thus  entrenched  after  his  custom 
ary  fashion,  motioned  toward  another  chair  for  his 
caller. 

"I  hardly  looked  for  you  until  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"I  got  your  wire  at  the  Foothills  last  night,  sir," 
replied  Wentworth,  "and  came  up  in  my  car  at  once." 

"Ah!" 

Wentworth  was  young,  and  not  easily  chilled. 
The  monosyllable  and  the  stone  face  might  have 
stopped  an  older  man.  He  made  a  desperate  effort 
to  get  past  it. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Chester!"  he  cried.  "My  father!  Tell 
me  everything,  sir ! " 


36  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

It  was  a  pity  that,  the  son  of  his  father,  he  lacked 
the  countersign.  It  may  have  been  a  pity,  too,  that 
his  father  had  not  at  the  last  possessed  the  means 
of  enlisting  on  the  side  of  the  lawyer,  or  tried  to  enlist 
the  lawyer  on  his.  The  coldest  man  living  has  his 
vanity. 

"You  have  read  the  newspapers,  I  suppose?" 
said  the  lawyer,  coldly. 

"I  have  seen  them,  sir." 

"I  would  recommend  them  to  your  careful  perusal. 
Their  accounts  of  what  happened  are  pretty  complete 
— and  fairly  accurate." 

Went  worth  felt  the  repulse.  But  he  would  not 
be  dashed — not  yet. 

"You  were  my  father's  lawyer,  Mr.  Chester," 
he  said,  with  a  touch  of  manly  reproach.  "You 
wired  me  of  this  disaster.  And  I  have  come  to  you ! " 

"It  is  true  that  your  father  retained  me  through 
many  years.  But  a  client  who  withholds  confidence 
betrays  his  attorney,  sir." 

"That  is  a  serious  charge,  Mr.  Chester.  And  do 
you  know  nothing  of  my  father?  " 

Went  worth,  regarding  the  lawyer  closely,  was  not 
quite  sure  but  that  a  faint  smile  crossed  the  stone 
face  at  his  question.  It  was  no  more  than  a  breath 
crossing  a  mirror. 

"No  more  than  the  dead — or  the  sea!"  replied 
the  lawyer. 

It  was  baffling,  still,  Wentworth  would  not  give 
up. 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  37 

"If  my  father  is  dead,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "it 
was  the  hand  of  God  in  this  thing.  I  will  never  be 
lieve  that  he  swam  out  into  the  sea  with  no  purpose 
to  come  back." 

Again  across  the  lawyer's  face  there  flickered  that 
faint  suggestion  of  a  smile,  the  breath  upon  the  mir 
ror.  When  he  spoke,  after  that,  Wentworth  fancied 
that  there  was  in  his  tone  just  a  hint  of  pity. 

"Men  incline,"  said  Mr.  Chester,  "to  credit  God 
with  many  a  neat  stroke  of  the  devil's  handiwork. 
But  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  beliefs,  Mr. 
Wentworth;  and  the  world  will  hold  to  its  own.  A 
command  may  come  from  the  grave,  sir!  It  is 
usually  better  to  let  dead  men  lie." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Wentworth, 
half  starting  up. 

The  lawyer  sat  for  a  moment,  regarding  him 
keenly.  In  those  crises  when  it  becomes  professional 
to  cut  the  heart  out  of  a  man,  the  operator  may  well 
pause  at  the  start  to  contemplate  with  some  care  the 
making  of  the  first  incision.  When  Mr.  Chester 
spoke  again  there  was  a  cold  precision  in  his  voice 
that  told  Wentworth  every  word  was  well  considered 
—and  was  believed  by  the  speaker  to  be  irrefutable. 

"Your  father,"  he  said,  "is  gone.  I  believe — 
and  I  knew  him  better  than  any  man  living,  although 
of  late  years  I  have  reason  to  know  that  he  kept  much 
from  me — that  when  he  struck  out  from  that  pier 
at  the  North  Beach  bathing  establishment  he  did 
not  mean  to  come  back.  Ten  millions  in  securities, 


38  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

that  were  supposed  to  lie  safely  in  the  vaults  of  the 
Bank  of  the  Pacific,  are  gone  likewise.  Where  those 
securities  are  we  know  no  more  than  we  know  where 
abouts  in  the  dark  seas  that  run  about  the  Heads 
outside  the  Bay  the  beaten  body  of  Elliot  Wentworth 
may  be  tossing  at  this  moment. 

"The  securities  that  I  speak  of  seem  to  have  been 
thrown  into  the  financial  sea  long,  long  ago.  That 

could  not  have  been  done  without  the  privity  and 

Keep  your  seat,  young  man!"  For  Wentworth  had 
made  as  if  to  rise. 

"That  could  not  have  been  done  without  the 
privity,  the  dishonest  privity,  of  the  President  of 
the  Bank  of  the  Pacific.  You  have  said  that  I  was 
your  father's  lawyer.  For  many  years  .1  was.  I 
may  have  been  led  to  think  that  I  was,  up  to  the 
last.  But  I  have  found  that,  latterly,  he  took  other 
advice  than  mine.  Do  you  think  that  I  would  advise 
a  client  to  forge,  sir,  and  to  steal?  Your  father,  it 
has  been  found,  was  in  the  mining  stock  market 
much  more  heavily  and  for  many  more  years  than 
anybody  supposed.  I  never  advised  a  man  to  specu 
late  in  stocks  in  my  life,  young  man.  And  it  was 
only  when  a  demand  was  made  for  a  great  part  of  the 
securities  now  missing,  to  finance  a  big  industrial  pro 
ject,  that  discovery  became  inevitable — and  the  crash 
came.  I  would  recommend  you  to  leave  it  at  that." 

After  that  one  start  to  repel  the  arraignment  of 
his  father,  Wentworth  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands 
and  heard  the  lawyer  out  in  silence.  Mr.  Chester 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  39 

spoke  coldly  and  without  any  trace  of  passion.  The 
very  manner  of  his  speaking  was  calculated  to  carry 
conviction.  The  despair  of  youth,  swift  as  youth's 
recovery  from  despair,  bowed  the  younger  man  down. 
Yet  he  made  no  more  effort. 

"But  my  father  had  many  large  interests!" 
he  said. 

"None  that  would  save  the  situation.  Even  those 
that  he  had  are  in  the  formative  stage:  a  new  hotel, 
an  electric  railway  still  building,  a  great  power  pro 
ject.  These  must  all  be  financed,  and  heavily,  to 
be  carried  through  to  any  one's  profit.  Your  father 
began  many  things — and  completed  few." 

"  There  is  nothing  left,  then,  sir?  " 

"Less  than  nothing.  But  I  may  say  that  I  am 
authorized,  as  to  yourself " 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  myself,"  interrupted  Went- 
worth. 

"Nevertheless,  it  seems  to  me  that  that  is  the  most 
important  thing  for  you  to  think  of,  at  the  moment. 
Others  have  given  you  some  thought,  sir!  Your 
fortunes  were  a  subject  of  discussion  among  the 
gentlemen  in  my  room  even  as  you  came  in." 

"The  gentlemen  in  your  room,  sir?  " 

"  The  Directors  of  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific,  yes.  It 
was  their  idea  that  you  would  be  permitted  to  finish  at 
Berkeley,  if  you  liked,  and  would  then  be  given  work 
in  the  bank — or  in  some  equally  eligible  situation." 

"The  bank?"  queried  Went  worth.  He  was  all 
at  sea. 


40  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"The  Bank  of  the  Pacific,"  explained  Mr.  Chester. 
"They  propose  to  come  forward  with  the  millions 
necessary  to  rehabilitate  it.  The  decision  is  not  half 
an  hour  old.  The  bank  could  not  be  permitted  to  go 
down.  That  would  be  a  disaster  national  in  scope. 
This  action  of  the  Directors  is  merely  that  of  men 
who  run  to  fight  a  fire.  Of  course  there  will  be  heavy 
losses  by  depositors  and  trust  funds — or,  rather, 
there  will  be  delay  in  settlements.  But  the  situation 
will  be  saved." 

"The  bank  will  reopen,  then?" 

"  To-morrow  morning.  There  is  no  secret  about  it. 
The  newspapers  will  have  the  statements  to-night. 
Your  late  father's  enterprises  go  into  the  pot  with 
the  rest." 

"I  should  have  supposed  that.  And  the  gentle 
men  who  do  all  this  would  make  my  fortunes  their 
care,  likewise?" 

Wentworth  could  not  have  told  what  it  was  that 
prompted  the  bitterness  in  his  words.  But  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  something  of  the  recovery  of  youth. 
Indeed,  he  was  still  over-young  to  question  the  mo 
tives  of  any  man.  He  may  merely  have  desired, 
instinctively,  to  stand  alone. 

"They  could  not  well  do  otherwise,"  said  Mr. 
Chester.  "You  must  live — and  make  your  liv 
ing.  And  most  of  these  men  liked  your  father. 
That  liking  would  prompt  them  to  give  you  a 
chance." 

"I  think  I  would  rather  make  my  living  somewhere 


THERE  ARE  BAD  PEOPLE  41 

else  than  behind  the  counter  of  the  bank,"  said 
Went  worth. 

"That  is,  perhaps,  a  natural  feeling.  I  dare  say 
there  will  be  other  clerkships  to  be  found,  after  you 
shall  have  finished  with  your  schooling." 

"I  have  finished  with  my  schooling,"  said  Went- 
worth,  rising  as  he  spoke.  "And  I  mean,  sir,  to 
take  my  future  into  my  own  hands." 

"It  isn't  much  to  take!"  murmured  the  lawyer — 
as  if  rather  to  himself. 

"Little  or  much,  it  is  mine,"  replied  Wentworth. 
If  Mr.  Chester,  who  should  have  known  the  fighting 
blood  of  the  Wentworths,  wanted  to  rouse  it  to  ac 
tion,  he  had  taken  a  very  sure  way.  But  it  may  be 
that  he  only  indulged  the  lawyer's  passion  for  playing 
upon  a  human  instrument." 

"You  reject  the  help  of  your  father's  friends?" 
he  asked. 

"Oh,  my  father's — friends?    Yes,  sir." 

"You  will  at  least  go  in  and  see  these  gentlemen?" 

"What  is  the  good  of  quarrelling  with  a  crowd  when 
I  have  been  sufficiently  accommodated  by  one,  sir? 
Their  time  is  valuable!  Why  waste  it  on  me?  I 
know  what  I  do  not  want,  at  least." 

"I  am  to  assume  that  you  will  take — your  fortunes 
— away  from  San  Francisco?"  queried  the  lawyer. 

Wentworth  leaped  to  his  feet,  starting  to  leave 
the  office.  "You  may  assume  whatever  you  like, 
sir,"  he  said,  "but  it  is  my  purpose  to  fight  the  battle 
out  on  this  field." 


CHAPTER  V 

AND,  LIKEWISE,  THERE  ARE  GOOD  PEOPLE 

BUT  it  was  not  written  that  Wentworth  should 
fight  his  battle  in  San  Francisco,  firm  as  his 
purpose  was  to  do  that  when   he   left  the 
lawyer's  office.     He  turned  and  passed  out  through 
the  door  of  the  consultation  room,  and  so  on  across 
the  anteroom  into  the  main  hallway  of  the  big  build 
ing.     He  was  not  sure,  by  the  time  he  had  tramped 
down  six  flights  of  stairs  to  the  street — the  elevators 
having   stopped   running — that  matters   were  alto 
gether  so  hopeless  as  the  lawyer  had  represented. 

But  he  had  no  more  than  the  resiliency  natural 
to  youth  as  a  basis  for  this  recovery  of  faith.  He  had 
never,  really,  become  well  acquainted  with  his  father. 
Once,  several  years  before,  the  elder  Wentworth  had 
been  seriously  hurt  about  the  head  in  an  auto  ac 
cident  in  the  Park.  He  had  been  carried  home  un 
conscious  and  his  son  called  hastily  from  his  college 
duties  to  his  bedside.  The  papers  had  been  full  of 
the  accident  at  the  time — a  financial  magnate  of  the 
size  of  the  President  of  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific  could 
not  be  thus  stricken  without  causing  something  of  a 
flurry.  Young  Wentworth  had  sat  beside  his  father's 
sick  bed  through  that  illness,  and  the  elder  man  had 

42 


THERE  ARE  GOOD  PEOPLE  43 

presently  come  back  to  what  had  seemed  to  be  com 
plete  recovery.  The  incident  had  long  ago  passed 
entirely  out  of  young  Wentworth's  mind.  For  the 
rest,  there  were  just  the  two  of  them  in  the  big 
marble  palace  on  Pacific  Heights.  The  elder  man 
was  buried  in  gold,  the  younger  absorbed  in  the  more 
healthful  preoccupations  of  youth.  There  had  al 
ways  been  plenty  of  everything  in  the  house,  espe 
cially  money;  but  that  is  not  good  ground  for  father 
and  son  to  meet  on  if  they  come  together  on  no 
other.  But  Elliot  Wentworth  had  lost  his  wife  when 
the  boy  was  born,  and  at  that  loss  had  immersed 
himself  the  more  deeply  in  financial  affairs.  Pos 
sibly  the  loss  had  turned  him  against  the  child,  sub 
consciously.  There  are  such  strange  mysteries  in 
human  relationships.  Young  Wentworth,  at  all 
events,  had  grown  to  manhood  almost  in  his  own  way 
— and,  with  manhood,  came  honour.  He  could  not, 
having  honour  himself,  believe  his  father  devoid  of  it. 
Of  course,  if  there  had  been  dishonour,  he  could 
understand  how  there  should  also  be  inevitable  death. 
Little  as  he  had  known  his  father,  he  had  known  him 
to  be  a  proud  man,  and  sensitive.  Maybe,  if  he  had 
been  less  proud  and  self-contained,  the  elder  man 
might  have  touched  his  son's  life  more  nearly.  But 
the  fact  that  Wentworth  held  to  his  faith  in  his 
father's  honour,  after  the  first  effect  of  the  lawyer's 
relation  wore  off,  made  him  reject — not  the  fact 
of  death,  for  that  seemed  beyond  doubt — but  the 
theory  of  suicide. 


44  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

It  would  be  a  part  of  his  work  in  life,  therefore, 
to  rehabilitate  the  good  name  of  his  father.  This 
much,  at  least,  had  been  clear  to  his  mind  when  he 
rejected,  on  his  own  behalf,  the  help  of  the  men  who 
had  determined  to  reopen  the  bank.  If  he  did  clear 
his  father's  name  it  must  be  at  somebody's  expense. 
Whatever  part  they  might  have  had  in  wrecking  the 
bank — if  any  of  them  had  a  part — the  men  who  were 
to  open  a  new  bank  on  the  ruins  of  the  old  one  could 
have  no  sympathy  with  any  such  purpose  as  he  cher 
ished.  If  any  of  them  had  had  any  part  in  wrecking 
the  bank,  Wentworth's  purpose  would  be  one  which 
they  would  stop  at  nothing  to  defeat. 

It  was  a  maze  as  yet,  and  Wentworth  was  groping 
somewhat  blindly  in  it — but,  if  his  father  had  been 
driven  to  his  ruin,  the  driver  or  drivers  must  have  been 
big  in  the  world  of  finance.  A  man  of  his  father's 
stamp  could  not  be  cast  into  the  abyss  save  to  the 
profit  of  somebody,  and  it  might  well  chance  that 
the  driver,  having  seen  the  father  ruined,  would  be 
willing  or  even  anxious  to  help  the  son  to  live.  It  is 
not  the  government  alone  that  keeps  a  conscience  fund. 

These  thoughts  formed  themselves  vaguely  as 
Wentworth  plunged  along  Montgomery  Street  now 
with  only  the  wind  and  fog  for  company,  and  turned 
into  a  place  he  knew  in  order  to  get  the  evening 
papers  and  the  last  details  of  the  calamity  in  which 
he  was  involved.  That  much  of  Mr.  Chester's  talk 
had  been  sound,  anyhow.  He  must  know  all  that 
there  was  to  know  of  the  catastrophe. 


THERE  ARE  GOOD  PEOPLE  45 

It  was  a  place  on  the  Cocktail  Route  that  he  en 
tered,  about  the  first  station;  and  so,  of  course,  the 
current  setting  up  town  had  swept  the  crowd  on  an 
hour  before.  The  one  man  left  on  the  late  watch— 
which  might  catch  a  stray  sailorman  from  the  front 
or  a  belated  Oaklander  hurrying  to  the  ferry,  no 
more  than  that — knew  him  and  greeted  him. 

"How  do,  Mr.  Wentworth?"  said  the  barkeeper, 
extending  his  hand  across  the  bar,  and  smoothing 
down  his  white  apron. 

It  often  happens  that  a  barkeeper's  hand  is  the 
last  held  out  to  a  falling  man  and  the  first  to  a  rising. 

"Hullo,  Charlie!  Make  me  a  cocktail,  will  you? 
And  I  would  like  to  look  at  the  evening  papers." 

There  was  a  row  of  little  stalls  along  one  side  of  the 
place  that  could  be  shut  in  by  red  plush  curtains 
swung  from  brass  rods,  and  into  one  of  these  Went 
worth  went,  sinking  on  the  red  plush  seat  beside  the 
mahogany  table  that  took  up  most  of  the  space. 
The  evening  papers  lay  spread  out  there,  left  by  the 
last  occupant.  On  the  top  of  the  pile  was  the 
Bulletin,  a  scare  headline  right  away  across  the  top 
of  the  first  page,  and  following  it  a  full  story  of  the 
financial  disaster  and  the  tragedy  of  the  fate  of  Elliot 
Wentworth.  It  was  a  plain  tale,  plainly  set  down. 
The  most  fervid  reporter  had  no  need  to  draw  on  his 
imagination  to  heighten  interest  in  a  story  like  that. 

Wentworth  was  sitting  with  his  head  upon  his 
hands,  reading  the  tale,  when  the  barkeeper  came 
across  softly,  and  placed  the  red  drink  at  his  elbow. 


46  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

The  man  did  not  go  away  again  at  once.  The  two 
were  alone  in  the  place,  and  the  barkeeper  was  stirred 
by  the  practical  sympathy  of  the  poor.  Also,  he 
had  been  a  loser  by  the  failure  of  the  bank.  Went- 
worth,  looking  up  for  a  moment,  saw  the  kindness 
in  the  servitor's  eye,  and  smiled  at  him.  It  needed 
no  more  than  that. 

"This  is  hell,  Mr.  Wentworth,  ain't  it?"  said  the 
barkeeper. 

"And  then  some!"  Wentworth  replied,  and  went 
back  to  his  newspaper. 

He  rose,  at  last,  knowing  all  of  the  story  that  the 
world  knew.  Crossing  to  the  bar,  where  the  bar 
keeper  was  busily  polishing  glasses,  whistling  softly 
as  he  worked,  Wentworth  said,  "Make  me  another 
cocktail,  Charlie — and  one  for  yourself!" 

The  man  mixed  the  drinks  at  once,  and  they  drank. 
Then  Charlie  said,  as  they  set  down  their  glasses, 
"Have  one  on  the  house,  sir?" 

"No  more,  thanks,"  replied  Wentworth. 

"Well,"  said  Charlie,  sighing  as  he  put  the  glasses 
away,  "this  is  hell,  Mr.  Wentworth,  ain't  it?  I  lose 
five  hundred  bones,  myself,  on  the  play!" 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  replied  Wentworth.  "I 
have  lost  everything." 

"I  know!"  said  the  barkeeper.  "It  is  a  pretty 
hard  deal — and,  say,  Mr.  Wentworth,  it  ain't  much, 
but  if  a  twenty  or  so  should  come  anyways  handy, 
I've  always  got  it  in  the  safe,  here." 

"Thanks,  old  man,"  replied  Wentworth.  "After 


THERE  ARE  GOOD  PEOPLE     47 

all,  there  are  many  good  people  in  the  world.  I 
will  remember.  And  so,  good-night ! " 

"Good-night!"  replied  the  barkeeper.  "But  this 
is  hell,  ain't  it?" 

He  went  back  to  wiping  glasses,  whistling  softly. 
Wentworth  passed  out  into  the  fog  of  the  night, 
caught  a  Sutter  Street  car,  and  transferred  to  Polk 
for  Pacific  Heights.  But  he  might  as  well  have  spared 
himself  that  trouble.  The  marble  palace  of  the 
Wentworths'  was  already  boarded  up,  front  door  and 
windows,  and  the  caretaker  whom  he  aroused  at  last 
in  the  back  premises  looked  upon  him  clearly  with 
the  gravest  suspicion. 

"You  may  be  young  Mr.  Wentworth,"  the  old 
woman  said,  peering  out  at  him  from  the  servants' 
door — she  only  opened  it  the  least  little  way—  "but 
it's  a  queer  time  o'  night  to  be  comin'  'round.  That's 
all  I  says!" 

Then  she  slammed  the  door  in  his  face.  He  heard 
it  bolted  on  the  inside,  moreover.  He  had  not 
thought  about  the  house  being  closed  up  so  quickly, 
but,  on  reflection,  saw  that  it  was  natural  enough 
that  it  should  be.  The  house  servants  would  go  at 
the  first  hint  of  calamity.  Rats  do  not  abide  a  ship 
that  is  about  to  founder — Chinese  rats,  least  of  all. 
And,  of  course,  he  could  not  blame  the  caretaker  for 
not  knowing  him. 

If  he  was  to  be  permitted  to  look  at  his  father's 
papers,  and  allowed  to  get  some  things  left  in  his  own 
room,  he  could  procure  an  order  the  next  day  from 


48  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

whoever  had  control  of  the  place.  Moreover,  it 
occurred  to  him,  at  this  moment,  that  he  was  faint; 
that  he  had  eaten  nothing  since  morning.  And  he 
must  have  a  place  where  he  could  stay  the  night. 

Old  habits  being  still  strong,  he  caught  the  next 
car  that  passed  on  the  way  down  town,  transferred 
to  Sutter,  and  took  a  room  at  the  St.  Francis.  As 
he  registered,  he  asked  the  clerk  to  have  his  steamer 
trunk  and  suitcases  sent  for  from  the  garage  in 
Golden  Gate  Avenue,  and  then  he  turned  and  went 
downstairs  to  the  grill. 

And  he  found  himself  seated  at  a  small  table,  meant 
to  accommodate  two,  shaking  hands  across  the  white 
cloth  with  Fred  Upson,  a  fraternity  brother  of  last 
year  who  had  taken  honours  at  Hastings  Law  School 
and  was  just  beginning  to  attract  some  notice  at  the 
Bar. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   NEW   WAY    OF   LIFE 

GOD  bless  you,  John  Wentworth!"  cried  Upson 
as  he  gripped  the  other.  "God  bless  you!" 
Wentworth  smiled,  a  bit  wearily.  "He 
would  seem  to  have  been  doing  rather  the  other 
thing,"  he  replied. 

"Nonsense !     Take  a  brace,  man ! " 

And  Wentworth  did  draw  himself  together.  The 
hearty  manner  of  this  friend  was  a  tonic  as  the  friend 
liness  of  the  barkeeper  had  been.  Indeed,  there  were 
good  people  in  the  world — more  good  than  bad. 

"I  think  I  can  fight,"  he  said,  with  a  firmer  setting 
of  the  lips. 

"Of  course  you  can  fight.  You  have  got  to 
fight!" 

Upson  knew  all  that  the  world  knew  of  the  failure 
of  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific — and  the  tragedy.  He 
was  to  get,  now,  something  of  a  more  intimate  knowl 
edge  of  the  affair  from  WTentworth's  relation  of  the 
meeting  with  Mr.  Chester.  And  he  made  the  law 
yer's  natural  comment  on  John's  tale  of  his  talk  with 
his  father's  legal  representative. 

"Man,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  is  something  behind 
it!" 

49 


50  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

It  was  the  crystallization  into  clarity  of  the  chaos 
of  Wentworth's  own  thoughts. 

"There  is  something  behind  it,"  he  agreed. 
"But  what?" 

"You  knew  nothing  of  your  father's  affairs?" 
queried  Upson. 

"Nothing." 

"Nor  of  his  business  associates — and  associa 
tions?" 

"Not  much  more  than  everyone  knew.  The  big 
guns  of  Pine  Street  used  to  come  to  the  house  oc 
casionally.  He  frequented  the  Pacific  Union  Club, 
and  I  suppose  found  them  all  there.  If  there  was  one 
that  seemed  closer  than  another,  it  was  old  Harran, 
but  I  do  not  know  that  he  was  much  closer.  Chester 
sometimes  seemed  to  be  more  intimate.  The  papers 
were  always  full  of  the  doings  of  the  Wentworth 
crowd  on  'Change,  or  of  the  Baldwin  crowd,  or  the 
Harran  crowd.  My  father,  I  gathered,  was  more 
nearly  identified  with  the  Harran  lot  than  with  any 
other — although  I  never  seriously  gave  the  thing 
much  thought — for  the  Harran  crowd  and  the  Went 
worth  seemed  frequently  to  be  made  by  the  news 
paper  fellows  to  mean  the  same  thing.  Harran  was 
always  a  big  man  at  the  bank.  I  saw  him,  among 
others,  when  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lot  in  Chester's 
office.  But  the  whole  world  of  money  is  like  a  great 
kaleidoscope  to  me,  turning  and  shifting." 

"As  to  the  rest  of  us,"  agreed  Upson.  "You 
merely  saw  the  shining  colours  as  they  changed. " 


A  NEW  WAY  OF  LIFE  51 

"And  took  joy  in  them,"  said  Wentworth. 

"Naturally!  You  could  reach  out  and  seize  any 
colour  that  you  fancied.  The  balance  of  us  must 
be  content  to  look  through  the  tube — and  keep  hands 
off." 

"That  was  about  the  size  of  it,"  said  Wentworth. 

"Well,"  said  Upson,  after  a  little  silence,  "it  took 
some  considerable  manipulation  to  keep  the  colours 
constantly  changing.  I  suppose  you  always  un 
derstood  that?" 

"I  suppose  that  I  did.  But  I  am  not  conscious 
of  ever  having  thought  much  about  it." 

"You  would  not,  the  whole  game  being  so  much 
a  matter  of  every  day,"  said  Upson.  "  Your  father's 
hand  was  probably  doing  most  of  the  manipulating, 
during  all  the  time  after  you  were  old  enough  to 
take  notice.  But  there  seems  to  have  come  a  hand, 
at  last,  that  snatched  the  tube  away  from  his,  and 
then  he  was  thrown  on  the  screen  among  the  atoms, 
and  winked  out." 

Wentworth  had  steadied,  more  and  more,  as  they 
talked.  Moreover,  the  dinner  had  begun  to  move 
across  the  table  in  orderly  procession,  and  the  sanity 
of  this  presentation  of  food,  as  much  as  the  strength 
ening  quality  of  the  viands  themselves,  refreshed 
him. 

"You  mean  that  it  was  necessary  to  eliminate  my 
father  in  someone's  interest?"  he  asked. 

"Exactly  that.  He  stood  in  the  way  of  some  pre 
datory  plutocrat's  accumulation  of  more  millions. 


52  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

His  wide  operations,  sooner  or  later,  would  lay  him 
open  to  the  squeeze.  Your  father,  my  boy,  had  some 
thing  of  the  plunger's  reputation — hi  the  large,  con 
structive  way.  The  stronger  hand  closed  on  him 
at  the  chance,  and  he  went  out." 

"That  may  all  be  true,"  said  Wentworth,  mus 
ingly. 

"It  is  true,"  Upson  asserted,  with  conviction. 

"And  whose  was  the  stronger  hand?" 

"I  do  not  know  enough  of  your  father's  concerns 
to  justify  a  conclusion.  For  choice,  if  I  were  to 
hazard  a  guess,  I  would  say  Harran's." 

"People  have  told  me  that  I  was  like  my  father," 
said  Wentworth.  "I  did  not  know  him  well  enough 
to  be  certain  that  that  was  the  fact.  But  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  loss  of  money  would  drive  me  to 
death." 

"Do  you  know  that  your  father  is  dead?"  asked 
Upson. 

"Do  you  realize  what  is  implied  by  that  ques 
tion?"  flashed  Wentworth. 

"Not  what  you  seem  to  think,"  replied  Upson, 
as  quickly. 

"It  is  death — or  dishonour,  Fred.  God  help  me, 
it  may  be  both!" 

The  shadow  with  which  Wentworth  had  been 
struggling  for  a  day  and  a  night  rose,  darkly,  to 
confront  him.  But  he  fought  it  away.  "I  will 
not  believe  it!"  he  cried.  "I  will  not  believe  it!" 

"And  you  need  not,"  said  Upson.     "Look  here, 


A  NEW  WAY  OF  LIFE  53 

John !  Your  father  was  a  promoter,  therefore  a  man 
sanguine  by  temperament,  and  imaginative,  in  other 
words,  a  dreamer.  Every  great  promoter  is  a  dreamer* 
And  the  man  who  succeeds  at  the  trade  is  the  man 
who  makes  his  dreams  come  true.  He  builds  in 
the  world  of  high  finance,  and  his  building  tools  are 
men  and  money.  Your  father  was  carried,  say,  a 
thought  beyond  himself  in  one  of  his  great  construc 
tive  dreams.  There  may  have  been  some  accidental 
slip,  some  sudden  contingency  whose  liability  to  occur 
was  overlooked  and  not  provided  for.  He  may  have 
been  tempted.  God  alone  knows!  We  all  are,  at 
times." 

He  fell  silent  for  a  moment,  while  the  other  sat 
watching  him. 

"And  then?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"He  may  have  been  tempted.  The  world,  John, 
is  a  wild  beasts*  den.  I  tell  you  that,  as  a  lawyer.  I 
have  seen  the  beasts  in  it  with  their  masks  off." 

"I  do  not  believe  that  all  men  are  bad,"  protested 
Wentworth.  Even  amidst  the  darkness  in  which  he 
was  groping,  he  would  not  go  that  far.'* 

"Believe  what  you  like — but  listen!  The  world 
is  a  den  of  wild  beasts;  or,  if  you  prefer  it  that  way, 
the  world  of  money  is  a  den  of  wild  beasts.  They 
are  more  ravenous  in  that  world  than  in  any  other, 
anyhow.  I  grant  you  that,  freely.  The  dreamer 
was  in  the  den  among  the  beasts,  and  laid  himself  in 
some  way  open  to  attack  from  the  most  ferocious 
of  them.  We  cannot  tell  what  weakened  joint  there 


54  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

may  have  been  in  the  dreamer's  armour.  You  say 
that  your  father  recovered  completely  from  the  effect 
of  his  injury  in  that  automobile  accident — but,  did 
he?  You  have  no  more  than  the  word  of  a  doctor 
and  his  own  apparent  recovery  to  go  upon.  And 
we  are  dealing  with  that  subtlest  of  all  things,  the 
human  brain!  Did  the  beasts  find  the  flaw,  and 
pierce  the  armour?  We  must  manage  to  learn  that, 
somehow. 

"That  your  father  fought  against  his  foes,  and 
fought  manfully,  I  do  not  doubt.  That  he  fought 
to  lose,  the  whole  world  knows.  I  believe  that, 
knowing  where  he  was  weak,  they  leaped  upon  the 
dreamer  to  devour  him.  That  he  may  have  been 
led,  in  the  desperation  of  his  resistance  and  in  his 
weakness,  to  do  the  thing  too  much,  is  at  least  pos 
sible.  And  then,  awakened,  he  fell  into  the  dream 
er's  panic.  He  would  fear,  as  he  ran,  that  every 
thing  was  gone;  that  all  that  was  left  for  him  was 
to  get  away,  to  hide  from  the  world.  Later — and 
when  he  might  even  deem  it  too  late — he  would  come 
to  see  that  he  could  still  have  stayed  and  fought; 
that  this  or  that  chance  to  retrieve  himself  had  been 
overlooked.  But  the  panic  flight  would  then  stand 
forever  between  him  and  his  return  and  rehabilita 
tion." 

"There  could  be  no  coming  back,"  said  Wentworth. 

"I  do  not  go  that  far,"  protested  Upson.  "But 
that  thought  would  be  in  the  dreamer's  mind.  To 
drop  metaphor,  John,  it  is  my  opinion  that  some  of 


A  NEW  WAY  OF  LIFE  55 

the  big  fellows  down  there  on  the  Street  got  your 
father  into  a  corner,  put  him  into  a  position  from 
which  he  could  see  no  way  out  at  the  moment,  and 
squeezed  him.  Whether  this  was  done  by  some  sup 
pression;  whether  he  was  led  into  signing  obligations 
he  could  not  meet;  whether  securities  that  could  not 
at  that  moment  be  replaced  were  swallowed  by  a 
swiftly  manipulated  and  disastrous  turn  in  stocks 
I  do  not  know.  But  the  thing  is  done  every  day. 
It  is  a  mere  incident  in  life  with  those  fellows.  And 
generally  each  one  takes  his  turn,  and  they  are  all 
going  continually  up  and  down  like  an  eternal  and 
infernal  seesaw.  Your  father  was  a  bigger  man  than 
usually  falls;  and  the  profit  was  greater  to  those 
who  ruined  him.  Also,  his  fall  made  more  com 
motion.  I  believe  that  the  man,  or  men,  responsible 
knew  him,  temperamentally,  better  than  you  did. 
They  counted  upon  what  would  follow  on  their 
act.  It  is  possible  that  they  know  where  he  is 
now,  and  have  a  fear  that  you  may  come  to  sus 
pect  them.  Why  should  they  offer  to  care  for  you, 
otherwise?" 

Wentworth  put  the  point  as  to  himself  aside,  for 
the  moment,  although  Upson's  words  had  strongly 
borne  out  his  own  fleeting  notion  of  a  conscience 
fund. 

"You  honestly  do  not  believe  that  my  father  is 
dead?"  he  asked. 

"I  will  believe  that  he  is  dead  when  the  Bay  gives 
up  his  body — not  before." 


56  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"I  cannot  think  that  he  would  run  away  from  a 
mere  money  loss,"  said  Wentworth,  insistently. 

"Nor  does  it  follow  that  he  has.  Understand  me, 
John !  I  do  not  imply,  knowing  you,  I  do  not  believe, 
that  your  father  has  run  away  because  of  dishonour. 
But  that  he  may  have  been  led  to  think  that  dis 
honour  impended  is  certainly  within  the  possibilities. 
We  do  not  know  what  moments  of  weakness  he  may 
have  had;  what  promises  may  have  been  made  to 
him;  what  his  condition  may  have  been  as  to  sanity; 
what  pressure  may  have  been  brought  to  bear;  what 
power  of  coercion  may  have  been  in  the  hands  of  his 
enemies  at  the  psychological  moment.  But  that 
he  was  driven  to  flight,  I  am  most  firmly  persuaded." 

"And  you  think  that  Harran — 

"I  have  named  Harran  for  choice.  There  may 
have  been,  and  probably  were,  others  in  it  as  well. 
The  pickings  would  be  large  enough  to  share.  How 
ever  his  affairs  were  tangled,  your  father  had  mil 
lions.  And  the  fellows  who  took  his  fleece  would 
have  more  than  enough  to  make  all  his  projects  good." 

"Mr.  Chester  said  that  there  was  nothing  left  that 
belonged  to  my  father." 

"Ah,  the  lawyer!  Well,  at  that  point  come  in  the 
ethics  of  the  profession,  my  son.  As  your  father's 
representative,  to  say  the  least  possible  of  it,  Mr. 
Chester  has  taken  a  peculiar  position.  I  would 
not  go  any  further  than  that  at  this  time." 

"If  all  this  be  true,"  said  Wentworth,  and  his 
mental  state  as  he  said  it  was  more  hopeful  than  it 


A  NEW  WAY  OF  LIFE  57 

had  been  at  any  time  since  his  arrival  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  "the  first  thing  needful  is  to  find  my  father!" 

"That  is  the  thing  needful — but  it  cannot  be  done 
first." 

"What,  then?" 

"We  must  get  a  line  on  the  operation  in  the  Street 
that  led  to  the  disaster.  If  your  father  is  alive  as  I 
believe,  he  is  somewhere  safe,  and  as  well  as  a  man 
may  be  who  carries  his  load." 

"It  should  be  my  first  duty  to  set  him  right," 
protested  Went  worth.  "To  get  him  out  of  his  false 
position!" 

"Certainly.  But  it  is  a  point  of  method.  It  is 
very  doubtful  whether  you  can  do  anything  at  all 
by  commencing  an  immediate  search  for  him.  If 
there  had  been  a  deal,  the  men  who  were  behind  it  will 
make  it  then*  business  to  watch  you,  and  to  thwart 
any  efforts  you  may  make  calculated  to  jeopardize 
their  security.  Your  talk  with  Chester  may  already 
have  put  them  on  guard.  You  scorned  his  proposals 
and  he  seems  deep  in  their  confidence.  And,  re 
member,  they  have  money  at  command  and  a  long 
reach." 

Upson  paused  for  a  moment,  to  light  a  cigarette. 

"I  incline  to  think,  John,"  he  went  on,  "that  it 
would  have  been  wiser  for  you  to  stay  with  the 
University." 

"And  feed  from  the  hands  of  the  men  who  ruined 
my  father?"  asked  Went  worth,  so  completely  had 
he  accepted  the  theories  of  Upson. 


58  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"It  would  have  thrown  them  off  their  guard  more 
completely,"  the  other  replied.  "And  they  would 
not  have  credited  you  even  with  a  suspicion." 

"Well,  it  is  done,  now,"  said  Wentworth.  "I 
have  rejected  their  help,  and  with  something  of  scorn. 
And  I  am  glad  that  I  did,"  he  added,  reflectively. 

"Yes;  I  suppose  that  I  am,  too,"  said  Upson. 
"Nevertheless,  the  absence  of  suspicion  from  the 
minds  of  those  estimable  gentlemen  would  have  been 
a  desirable  thing  at  this  moment.  That  condition 
being  out  of  the  question,  the  next  best  thing  is  for 
you  to  get  work  somewhere,  anywhere,  at  anything, 
it  does  not  matter  what.  You  should  appear  to  be 
so  completely  occupied  in  making  your  living  as 
to  leave  no  time  at  all  for  other  matters.  That  is  to 
blind  your  watchful  enemy  as  to  your  real  purpose." 

"And  the  appearance  of  making  my  living  may 
well  run  into  the  reality,"  said  Wentworth,  grimly. 
"But  you  surely  do  not  mean  that  I  must  abandon, 
even  for  the  time  being,  all  effort  to  get  at  the  bottom 
of  this  thing?" 

"Not  at  all.  You  must  do  your  investigating  with 
adroitness,  which  is  a  different  thing.  You  have 
shrewd  men  and  powerful  agencies  opposed  to  you. 
I  will  take  your  interest  in  charge,  as  your  lawyer. 
It  will  be  the  obvious  thing  for  you  to  have  a  lawyer. 
In  that  position,  it  is  possible  that  I  may  get  a  line 
that  you  would  never  find.  Working  together — 
for  I  mean  that  you  shall  work,  although  as  yet  we 
have  not  thought  out  a  campaign — we  are  certain 


A  NEW  WAY  OF  LIFE  59 

to  get  the  clue,  sooner  or  later.  If  either  of  us  dis 
covers  anything,  when  either  of  us  discovers  anything 
we  will  act.  In  the  meantime,  you  work,  work, 
work!  That  is  the  best  anodyne  for  a  weary  mind 
the  Lord  ever  devised." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  RED  ROSE — AND  THE  OLD  LIFE  ENDS 

THE  waiter  brought  the  rum  omelet,  and 
Upson  began  to  spoon  the  blazing  liquor  over 
the  dish,  cooking  it  after  the  manner  approved 
by  the  worldly. 

"The  thing  for  you  now,  John,"  he  said,  "is  to 
put  yourself  entirely  in  my  hands  as  your  legal  ad 
viser.  Let  the  law  feel  its  way,  first." 

"I  will  be  honest  with  you,  Fred,"  replied  Went- 
worth.  He  had  in  his  mind  a  keen  remembrance 
of  Mr.  Chester  the  elder.  "I  don't  like  law,  nor 
yet,  as  a  class,  lawyers." 

Upson  smiled,  divining  the  thought  behind  the 
words.  "You  must  have  them,  nevertheless — to 
meet  law,  and  other  lawyers,"  he  said. 

"There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  idea  of  enlisting  mer 
cenary  troops  in  it." 

"The  mercenaries  volunteer  in  your  interest  this 
time,  old  man.  Hullo!  There  is  Allison!" 

Wentworth  looked  across  the  room,  and  saw  the  man 
he  had  left  on  the  back  stoop  of  the  Foothills  Hotel 
making  his  way  toward  them  from  the  Grill  entrance. 

"I  thought  I  had  abandoned  you  in  the  south," 
he  said,  rising  to  greet  his  friend. 

60 


A  RED  ROSE  61 

"So  you  did,  dear  boy,"  replied  Allison,  shaking 
hands  with  one  and  then  the  other.  "How  are  you, 
Upson?  But  Brooks  and  I  caught  the  Coaster  this 
morning  at  Ventura,  after  staying  long  enough  to 
give  ease  of  mind  to  a  number  of  your  dear  friends, 
disturbed  by  stories  in  the  Los  Angeles  papers,  and 
followed  after.  I  could  not  desert  Brooks  as  you 
did  me.  I  find  he  is  a  valuable  asset  to  me,  if  only 
in  the  way  of  an  awful  example  of  what  follows  on 
human  frailty.  But  do  you  know  that  it  is  after 
midnight,  you  two  owls?  And  I  am  as  hungry  as  a 
wolf." 

The  waiter,  at  a  nod  from  Upson,  had  drawn  a 
third  chair  to  the  little  table,  and  Allison  sat  down 
and  called  for  a  steak  and  a  bottle  of  Burgundy. 
Waiting  for  his  service,  he  was  taken  into  the  talk 
at  once. 

"I  have  just  been  telling  this  youth,"  explained 
Upson,  after  a  short  recital  of  Wentworth's  expe 
rience  with  the  lawyer,  "that  he  must  let  me  represent 
his  interests  in  these  matters." 

"  Surely ! "  agreed  Allison. 

"And  I  have  been  telling  Upson  that  I  like  neither 
law  nor  the  genus  lawyer,"  said  Wentworth;  "that 
the  notion  of  employing  mercenaries  in  warfare  is 
very  repugnant  to  me." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  the  mercenaries  volunteer," 
suggested  Allison.  "And  it  takes  a  lawyer  to  fight 
lawyers." 

This  somewhat  whimsical  repetition  by  the  new- 


02  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

comer  of  almost  the  very  words  that  Upson  had  used 
put  the  three  into  that  humorous  vein  that  is  to  be 
found  in  almost  everything  human — and  so  on  a  better 
footing  as  to  the  tragic  business  they  were  discussing. 

"I  suppose  that  I  will  have  to  let  you  fellows 
have  your  way  of  it,"  said  Wentworth,  under  this 
better  influence. 

"Of  course  you  will,"  agreed  Upson,  cheerfully. 
"And  now,  where  are  you  stopping?  " 

"Here,"  replied  Wentworth. 

"At  the  St.  Francis ! "  exclaimed  Upson. 

"Pretty  high,  isn't  it,  all  things  considered?  I'll 
move  to-morrow." 

"Come  up  to  the  University  Club  with  me!" 
cried  Allison. 

"And  Brooks?  Thanks,  old  man.  But  that 
would  be  pretty  high,  too.  I  must  make  my  own 
living,  now,  you  know.  My  lawyer  here  tells  me 
that,  and,  indeed,  I  know  it  without  any  telling." 

"And  that  will  be  enough  of  the  battle  for  you 
to  undertake  at  first,"  said  Upson. 

"All  the  same,"  insisted  Wentworth,  "I  do  not 
intend  to  give  up  the  field  to  you  altogether." 

"The  legal  end  of  it,  at  all  events,"  said  Upson. 
"And  now,  about  making  your  living?  " 

"I  might  get  a  clerkship  somewhere?"  suggested 
Wentworth. 

"A  form  of  slavery!"  murmured  Allison. 

"Not  bad,  as  tending  to  take  all  the  time  a  man 
has,"  said  Upson. 


A  RED  ROSE  63 

"  Nevertheless,  I  didn't  believe  that  it  is  good  for 
any  man  to  become  a  mere  drudge,"  said  Allison, 
speaking  with  an  earnestness  unusual  to  him.  "I 
think  it  would  be  better  if  you  could  find  something 
that  would  give  you  a  chance  to  do  some  of  the  fight 
ing.  And,  anyway,  how  do  you  propose  to  live  until 
you  get  your  clerkship?  " 

"I  still  have  most  of  the  two  hundred  I  left  the 
Foothills  with.  And  I  can  sell  the  Green  Flyer," 
said  Wentworth.  "It  cost  me  $5,000.  I  should 
get  half  that." 

"Give  you  three  thousand  for  it!"  said  Allison. 

"What  do  you  want  with  it?  You  never  drove  a 
car  in  your  life." 

"I  am  possessed  of  a  wild  desire  to  begin.  And, 
dear  boy,  think  how  eligible  it  will  be  for  Brooks  to 
break  his  neck  with  on  joy  rides!  Do  you  take  it?" 

"Of  course  I  take  it.  Send  me  a  check  in  the 
morning." 

"Good  enough!"  said  Allison. 

"Three  thousand  ought  to  keep  me,  even  at  the 
St.  Francis,  for  a  day  or  two,"  said  Wentworth. 

"As  your  legal  adviser,  I  still  think  it  will  be  better 
for  you  to  find  an  occupation,"  put  in  Upson.  "The 
three  thousand  is  a  very  good  nest-egg,  and  might  be 
needed  to  buy  powder.  A  war  chest  is  a  very  good 
thing  to  have,  when  war  impends." 

"Right  you  are!"  exclaimed  Wentworth.  "What 
a  blessing  it  is  that  my  poor,  old  dad  would  never 
permit  me  to  go  into  debt.  I  don't  owe  a  soul!" 


64  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

He  was  silent,  downcast  for  just  a  moment.  And 
then  his  cheerfulness  came  back.  "I'll  bank  the 
three  thousand,  and  find  a  room  in  the  Western 
Addition  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Then  I'll  look  fcr 
a  job." 

"Ever  do  newspaper  work?"  asked  Upson. 

"Not  a  line.    Why?" 

"Well,  there's  Charlie  Stringham,  managing  editor 
of  the  Call,  over  there.  I  know  him  pretty  well.  I 
used  to  do  a  turn  or  two  at  it  myself,  in  my  college 
days.  And  they  are  always  giving  fellows  tryouts 
on  the  newspapers.  Want  to  take  a  chance?  " 

He  did  not  say,  although  he  knew  it  to  be  the  fact, 
that  if  Wentworth  became  interested,  the  trade  would 
take  all  that  he  had  to  give,  body  and  brain.  The 
fact  that  he  wanted  a  clear  field  to  work  in  was  one 
that  he  could  not  bring  out  too  clearly. 

"I'll  take  any  chance:"  replied  Wentworth.  And 
then  he  went  on,  eagerly,  "It  would  be  the  best  thing 
I  could  do.  The  reporters  go  everywhere." 

"So  they  do,"  agreed  Upson.  He  rose  at  that. 
"Stay  here  a  minute,  you  fellows,"  he  said. 

He  went  straight  across  the  Grill  to  where  there 
sat  at  a  table  alone  a  square-jawed,  clean-shaven  man, 
not  old,  but  with  the  lines  in  his  face  that  great 
responsibility  graves  more  deeply  than  the  years. 
This  man  looked  up  and  nodded,  and  Upson  sat 
down  opposite  him.  The  lawyer  seemed  to  lay  the 
matter  in  hand  before  the  square-jawed  man  in  a 
very  earnest  manner  indeed.  Wentworth,  watching, 


A  RED  ROSE  65 

caught  one  swift  glance  from  a  pair  of  clear,  blue  eyes 
that  just  swept  over  him  in  a  look  that  seemed  to  take 
in  instantly  everything  in  the  Grill — the  lights, 
the  flowers,  the  men  and  women  babbling  in  time 
to  the  music,  everything.  And  Wentworth  knew, 
meeting  the  blue  eyes,  that  he  had  been  measured. 

Presently  Upson  rose,  Stringham  set  down  his 
wine  glass,  empty,  and  followed  him.  They  came 
over  to  the  table  where  Allison  was  now  attacking 
his  steak  and  Burgundy,  and  Upson  introduced  the 
editor.  Stringham  came  to  the  point  like  a  man 
who  meets,  and  passes,  everything. 

"Upson  tells  me  that  you  want  to  try  your  hand 
at  newspaper  work,  Mr.  Wentworth,"  he  said. 

"I  want  to  work,"  replied  Wentworth. 

"There  is  work  for  men  who  want  it,"  replied  the 
editor.  "But  it  is  real  work.  A  newspaper  demands 
everything.  Come  to  my  office  to-morrow  at  one 
o'clock,  and  we'll  talk  it  over.  I  dare  say  we  can 
arrange  something,  if  you  really  want  it." 

"Thank  you!"  said  Wentworth. 

"Not  at  all.  Good-night,"  said  the  editor. 
"Good-night,  Mr.  Allison.  I'm  glad  to  have  met 
you.  I  will  see  you  about  that  other  matter  any 
time  you  like,  Upson.  Good -night." 

The  three  young  men  gave  him  good-night,  and 
he  went  his  way  out  of  the  Grill.  And  the  next 
day  John  Wentworth  was  regularly  enrolled  on  the 
City  Staff  of  the  Call,  with  orders  to  report  for  duty 
the  folio  whig  afternoon,  and  a  salary  of  twenty 


66  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

dollars  a  week  as  a  beginner.  He  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  spend  several  times  that  amount  in  a  day, 
if  it  suited  his  humour,  but  this  small  stipend  was  a 
healthy  one  for  a  man  to  begin  the  world  on.  He 
found  a  room,  too,  away  out  on  Bush  Street,  beyond 
Fillmore;  and  for  this  he  paid  ten  dollars  a  month 
in  advance,  with  the  privilege  of  the  bath. 

To  this  place  he  sent  his  steamer  trunk  from  the 
St.  Francis ;  and  later,  a  larger  trunk  from  the  marble 
palace  on  Pacific  Heights  filled  with  such  of  his 
personal  belongings  as  it  suited  him  to  keep.  A 
few  trinkets,  his  father's  repeater  which  he  found  in 
his  own  old  room  by  some  strange  chance,  and  his 
private  papers.  He  got  this  trunk  by  favour  of 
Upson,  who  procured  an  order  from  the  receiver  in 
bankruptcy.  Bankruptcy  proceedings  had  already 
been  commenced  when  Wentworth  reached  San 
Francisco.  The  receiver  it  was  who  had  taken  pos 
session  of  the  marble  palace  as  the  only  tangible 
thing  left  by  the  elder  Wentworth.  Otherwise, 
there  was  in  sight  only  the  promoter's  interest  in 
various  projected  enterprises,  and  these  the  receiver 
might  hope  to  realize  on  only  by  an  amicable  arrange 
ment  with  the  people  who  were  to  revive  the  Bank. 

After  he  had  removed  his  luggage  to  his  new  quar 
ters,  Wentworth  banked  the  three  thousand  Allison 
paid  him  for  the  Green  Flyer,  and  was  ready  to  report 
for  duty  to  the  City  Editor.  Upson,  of  course,  had 
already  begun  to  look  out  for  his  interests.  But 
it  was  a  hopeless  task  enough.  There  really  did  not 


A  RED  ROSE  67 

seem  to  be  any  material  interests  to  look  out  for. 
No  line  appeared  anywhere  that  could  be  followed 
to  any  tangible  result. 

The  new  Bank  of  the  Pacific  had  opened  its  doors 
with  five  millions  in  gold  com  in  sight.  It  was  an 
nounced  that  all  agreements  made  by  the  late  Presi 
dent  of  the  Bank  would  be  carried  out  to  the  letter. 
His  big  industrial  projects  would  be  financed  and 
completed.  The  old  depositors  would  be  taken  care 
of,  in  time,  out  of  the  realized  assets  of  the  Bank, 
and  trust  funds  would  be  cared  for. 

And  as  the  men  who  were  behind  the  Bank  were 
known  to  be  the  heaviest  capitalists  in  the  city,  after 
a  flurry  or  two  in  the  stock  market  the  Street  settled 
quickly.  Money  began  to  be  paid  into  the  Bank, 
before  the  close  of  business,  faster  than  it  had  ever 
come  in  before.  The  Directors,  who  had  saved  the 
situation  in  the  city  with  the  help  of  the  Clearing 
House — which  announced  its  alliance  with  the  new 
management  at  the  opening  of  business — were  hailed 
as  the  financial  regenerators  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 
The  mining  stock  market  took  a  strong  bullish  tone. 
Money  rates  eased  up.  The  city,  in  a  word,  accepted 
the  new  condition.  And  the  fall  of  Elliot  Went- 
worth  became,  almost  in  a  day,  a  vanishing  mile 
stone  in  the  mad  American  race  for  money.  He  was 
down — and  passed.  The  field  swept  on. 

John  Wentworth  dined  with  Allison  at  the  Uni 
versity  Club  that  night.  He  took  it  as  the  last  taste 
of  a  life  that  might  never  be  his  again — and  was  not 


68  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

conscious  of  any  keen  regret  on  that  score.  Allison, 
of  course,  had  in  his  mind  a  purpose  to  hold  his  friend, 
despite  his  changed  position.  And  in  some  measure, 
whatever  might  chance,  he  would  probably  be  able 
to  do  that.  A  newspaper  man  has  associates  every 
where. 

On  his  side,  Wentworth  realized  how  it  would  per 
haps  come  that  in  the  real  interests  of  their  lives  they 
would  drift  apart.  But  he  ate  his  dinner,  and  drank 
his  wine,  and  let  nothing  of  his  realization  appear. 
After  dinner  they  went  to  the  Majestic  and  saw  John 
Drew  in  a  couple  of  acts  of  "The  Master."  After 
ward  they  took  a  taxi  for  Tait's  to  get  a  bite  of 
supper. 

And  as  they  sat  over  it  there  was  the  bustle  of  the 
entrance  of  a  theatre  party,  and  Wentworth,  forget 
ting  for  a  moment,  rose  to  answer  the  smile  and  bow 
that  Margaret  Graeme  gave  him  as  she  passed  with 
a  gay  following  of  young  men  and  women.  Only, 
she  had  paused  in  passing  for  the  least  fraction  of  a 
second,  her  hand  going  to  the  cluster  of  red  roses  at 
her  corsage.  And  a  rose,  a  single  rose,  seemed  to 
detach  itself  to  fall  at  Wentworth's  feet. 

He  stooped  quickly,  picked  it  from  the  floor,  and 
thrust  it  into  the  flap  of  his  coat.  She  had  swept 
on  into  the  inner  room,  with  no  more  than  the  smile 
and  the  bow.  Allison,  rising  to  bow  in  return,  had 
not  seemed  to  notice  the  rose,  although  it  may  well 
be  that  friendship  is  sometimes  blind,  as  well  as  love. 
Wentworth  had  his  prize,  at  all  events — and  it  was 


A  RED  ROSE  69 

not  much.  A  silence  fell  between  the  two  friends, 
for  a  little,  after  the  other  party  had  entered. 

Wentworth  was  the  first  to  break  it.  "It  is  time 
for  working  people  to  be  in  bed,"  he  said.  "It  is 
long  past  midnight." 

If  Allison  had  expected  that  the  silence  would  have 
been  broken  in  another  way  he  said  nothing.  "  News 
paper  people  run  all  night,"  was  his  only  protest 
at  the  parting. 

"Not  beginners.  And  the  others  do  not  keep 
honest  people  up  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  dear 
boy.  Good-night. " 

He  left  Allison  still  lounging  at  the  table,  under 
the  lights  and  the  palms,  with  the  soft  music  rising 
and  falling  across  the  chatter  of  the  theatre  crowds. 
Allison  would  probably  join  the  other  party  when  he 
was  gone.  Wentworth  felt  no  bitterness  on  that  ac 
count.  Allison's  place  was  with  the  other  party. 
And  he  would  be  whimsical,  and  winning,  and  the 
women  would  be — well,  his  friend  deserved  to  win 
any  woman.  Allison  was  too  good  a  fellow  to  care 
whether  a  man  who  had  dropped  out  of  that  old  life 
took  down  with  him  into  the  other  and  harder  world 
a  memory  of  a  sweet  perfume — and  a  faded  rose. 

Wentworth  held  the  rose  in  his  hand  as  he  made 
his  way  into  the  street,  and  the  music  followed  him 
as  the  doors  closed  behind  him.  It  was  Hawaiian, 
the  music,  and  Wentworth  had  a  throbbing  in  his 
brain  in  unison  with  the  half -barbaric  beat  of  it. 
Once,  in  his  early  college  days,  he  had  taken  a  vaca- 


70  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

tion  run  to  the  Islands.  It  all  came  back  to  him  in 
the  music.  The  sensuous  strains  brought  to  his 
ears  the  soft  grating  of  the  palm  trees  stirred  by  the 
trade  winds,  the  murmur  of  breaking  seas  on  far- 
off  reefs,  the  sighing  of  warm  gales  among  spice 
islands.  And  he  saw  the  islands  that  night  hi  his 
dreams,  and  a  woman  beckoned  to  him  there,  hold 
ing  a  warm  red  rose  in  her  hand. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  WEECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON" 

PROMPTLY  at  one  o'clock  in  the  afternooa 
of  the  next  day  Wentworth  reported  for 
duty  to  the  City  Editor.  It  was,  perhaps, 
not  astonishing  that  he  caught  on  to  the  newspaper 
game  quickly — of  course,  not  the  whole  game.  A 
man  may  labour  at  that  for  a  score  of  years,  even  a 
very  clever  man,  and  find  at  the  end  that  there  are 
still  unsuspected  angles.  In  that  lies  something  of 
the  game's  fascination.  There  is  with  every  moment 
some  new  thing.  The  modern  American  mind  is 
constituted  strikingly  like  the  mind  of  the  ancient 
Athenian.  If  it  is  only  a  new  dollar,  the  American 
runs  after  the  novelty. 

Wentworth  was  sent,  in  the  first  casting  of  the 
pawns  that  the  City  Editor  uses  in  his  daily  play, 
to  lend  a  hand  to  the  day  police  reporter.  The  day 
policeman  for  the  Call,  and  every  other  day  man  on 
police,  greeted  him  fraternally;  made  him  one  of  the 
cult  at  once.  They  were  a  helpful  lot,  with  a  good 
understanding  as  to  the  routine  of  their  labour.  That 
is  to  say,  each  served  his  own  paper,  primarily,  seek 
ing  to  get  for  it  any  exclusive  piece  of  news  that  he 
could.  But  even  in  the  keenness  of  their  rivalry  no 


72  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

one  of  them  would  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  the 
rest.  He  would  have  been  sent  to  Coventry  if  he 
had,  but  the  fear  of  that  was  not  the  deterrent.  It 
was  much  more  the  ethics  of  the  thing.  They  played 
the  game  honestly. 

These  men,  while  they  were  all  willing  to  lend  a 
hand  to  the  beginner,  and  to  do  it  in  genuine  friendli 
ness,  without  the  least  taint  of  patronage,  began  by 
assuming  that  Wentworth  knew  the  ropes  that  held 
the  players  of  the  game  safely  within  bounds.  And, 
under  the  influence  of  this  assumption,  tending  inevi 
tably  to  create  self-confidence,  Wentworth  played 
boldly — and  found  the  ropes  where  he  expected  to 
find  them.  A  man  of  fair  intelligence,  with  the 
knack  of  writing  a  plain  newspaper  story  with  some 
slight  touches  of  whimsical  humour  here  and  there,  he 
found  after  that  first  day  that  he  got  on.  More, 
having  a  deeper  purpose  below  his  work,  Wentworth 
saw  very  quickly  how  familiarity  with  policemen 
and  police  methods  might  come  to  be  of  material 
help  to  him  in  the  working  out  of  his  purpose. 

Now,  it  is  the  practice  in  every  good  newspaper 
office  to  pile  all  the  work  on  a  clever  and  willing  man 
that  he  will  do  without  protest.  Wentworth  was 
both  clever  and  willing;  and  was  made  to  earn  his 
twenty  dollars  a  week.  Likewise  he  found  that  in 
earning  it  he  was  so  absorbed  in  each  day's  happen 
ings,  so  occupied  with  the  labour  of  the  passing  hour, 
that  he  had  but  little  time  left  to  think  on  his  own 
concerns — and  no  time  at  all  for  brooding.  He  never 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     73 

really  lost  sight  altogether  of  the  purpose  that  had  been 
behind  his  every  act  since  the  disappearance  of  his 
father,  but  the  daily  call  of  the  daily  work  kept  his 
mind  from  dwelling  upon  it.  And  that  was  healthful. 
Secret  design  is  never  good  for  the  heart  of  youth. 

Wentworth  went  to  his  little  room  in  Bush  Street 
every  night,  honestly  tired,  and  slept  the  sleep  that 
attends  on  physical  fatigue.  And  he  arose  refreshed, 
along  about  noon,  to  go  down  for  his  morning  coffee 
to  a  little  place  he  found  handy  in  Fillmore  Street. 

It  was  coffee  and  rolls,  mostly,  or  coffee  and 
"sinkers,"  which  is  the  San  Francisco  argot  for  the 
cheap  and  filling  doughnut  of  city  consumption. 
And  the  coffee  was  the  coffee-house  decoction  of  the 
ground  berry  and  milk  boiled  together.  Wentworth, 
after  the  first  few  times  of  drinking,  found  that  he 
really  began  to  have  a  taste  for  this  beverage  of  the 
poor.  Also,  with  this  kind  of  breakfast,  a  seventy- 
five-cent  table  d'hote  dinner  at  Paul's  at  seven,  and 
coffee  and  rolls — with  a  couple  of  eggs,  or  fried  sau 
sage,  or  corned  beef  hash,  or  pork  and  beans — at  the 
Fillmore  Street  place  on  his  way  home,  he  could  live 
very  well  within  his  twenty  a  week. 

And  he  could  save  a  dollar  or  two  a  week  to  buy 
beer  for  the  boys  at  the  Press  Club,  too.  But  he 
cut  that  out  very  soon,  finding  that  it  was  more 
profitable  to  his  line  of  work  to  buy  beer  for  the  police 
men  and  small  politicians.  The  whole  thing  gave 
him  life  in  a  new  and  not  unattractive  aspect. 

For  two  months  Wentworth  lived  his  life  thus, 


74  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

seeing  little  of  Upson;  and,  after  the  first  week,  noth 
ing  at  all  of  Allison.  He  heard,  indeed,  that  Allison 
had  gone  to  Europe,  read  it  in  bed,  one  morning,  on 
the  Society  Page  of  the  Call's  Sunday  Sup.  And 
on  the  same  page  was  the  story  of  the  presentation 
of  a  San  Francisco  beauty.  Miss  Margaret  Graeme, 
at  an  English  Court  drawing  room !  The  fact  that  he 
got  this  information  as  the  balance  of  the  town  did, 
showed  how  far  Wentworth  had  drifted  away  from 
the  old  life. 

And  Upson,  getting  no  line  to  work  on,  let  him 
be  vigilant  as  he  would,  had  no  occasion  to  send  for 
his  friend.  Wentworth,  in  the  two  months,  was  sent 
by  his  tyrant  the  City  Editor  here,  there,  and  every 
where  on  all  kinds  of  errands.  He  tasted  the  glory 
of  handling  alone  a  great  story  of  a  railway  disaster, 
and  the  humiliation  of  repulse  from  the  kitchen  door 
of  a  defaulting  labour  leader  to  whose  slattern  wife 
he  was  sent  for  a  photograph. 

And  then,  upon  a  day,  having  been  kept  with  the 
reserve  on  office  watch  for  a  couple  of  hours,  he  was 
sent  hurriedly  down  to  answer  a  call  for  help  from 
the  Waterfront  Man — an  autocrat  who  worked  after 
his  own  method,  at  his  own  time,  in  his  own  jurisdic 
tion — and  whom  it  chanced,  therefore,  that  Went 
worth  had  never  met. 

Threading  his  way  from  the  foot  of  Market  Street 
in  and  out  among  electric  cars,  heavily  laden  trucks, 
and  nondescript  human  drift  cast  ashore  along  the 
Embarcadero  and  eddying  into  the  low  liquor  places 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     75 

there,  Wentworth  found  the  CalVs  marine  expert, 
a  master  in  his  line,  seated  before  a  desk  telephone, 
the  receiver  at  his  ear,  in  a  little  wooden  shed  on  a 
place  on  Peterson's  boat  wharf.  As  it  happened, 
the  expert  was  alone  in  the  room,  although  there  were 
a  few  tarry-looking  loungers  just  outside  the  door. 

Wentworth  stood  quiet  for  a  moment  waiting  for 
the  other  to  finish  with  the  telephone.  But  the 
expert,  as  it  appeared,  could  talk  to  one  man  over 
the  phone  and  to  another  at  his  side  at  the  same  time, 
a  common  talent  among  newspaper  men. 

"Oh,  you  are  Wentworth?"  he  said,  turning,  with 
the  receiver  still  held  to  his  ear.  "Hullo!  That 
you,  Jim?  Is  the  Korea  passing  in?  This  is  Hanna." 

Then,  again  speaking  to  Wentworth:  "I  suppose 
you  saw  the  cable  a  few  weeks  ago  about  the  wreck 
of  the  tramp  freighter  Halcyon  on  Guam?  Only 
the  captain  and  two  men  saved?  Well,  you'll  find 
one  of  the  survivors,  a  sailor,  on  board  another  ship 
just  docked  at  Spreckles'  wharf.  Go  over  there  and 
get  the  full  story,  will  you,  please?  And  report  back 
to  me.  It  ought  to  be  a  good  yarn." 

He  turned  back  to  the  phone,  over  the  mouth 
piece  of  which  he  had  held  one  hand  while  he  was 
talking  to  Wentworth.  "Yes;  I  am  listening.  All 
right,  Jim.  I'll  go  out  with  you.  I  am  coming 
right  over." 

"All  right,  sir!"  said  Wentworth,  as  soon  as  he 
thought  politeness  permitted  him  to  break  in. 

"Not  gone  yet?"  asked  the  other,  turning  from 


76  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  phone.  "Better  get  a  wiggle  on!  The  sailor 
might  leave  the  ship." 

He  went  out  the  door,  at  that,  and  was  gone. 
Wentworth,  more  slowly,  made  his  way  along  the 
Embarcadero  toward  Broadway  wharf,  and  heard 
himself  hailed  by  name  as  he  was  picking  his  way 
over  the  narrow,  uneven  footpath  that  lies  between 
the  roadway  and  a  high  board  fence  shutting  in  the 
wharves.  He  turned,  just  as  his  friend  the  sailor, 
McGreal,  came  across  to  meet  him  from  the  open 
door  of  one  of  the  many  groggeries  standing  all  along 
there.  Having  interest  in  his  work,  it  occurred  to 
Wentworth  that  this  man  had  been  the  third  mate 
of  the  Halcyon,  and  so  might  give  him  points  about 
the  ship  that  would  do  to  feature  in  his  story.  And, 
anyhow,  he  would  be  interested. 

"  Hullo,  McGreal ! "  he  said.     "  Found  a  ship  yet?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  got  a  berth  on  the  transport  Sherman. 
Fourth  officer,  sir.  She  sails  to-morrow." 

Wentworth  noted  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  the 
sailor  had  on  a  blue  uniform,  with  neat  cap,  and  that 
there  was  about  him  a  general  air  of  nautical  nattiness 
that  sat  pleasantly  on  his  loose  strength.  It  seemed, 
indeed,  that  the  man  had  grown  to  a  sense  of  some 
responsibility,  and  that  he  had  possibilities  for  growth 
in  reserve.  It  was  an  impression  of  the  moment, 
merely,  Wentworth's  own  immediate  duty  taking 
possession  of  him. 

"Can  you  come  along  with  me  for  an  hour  or  two? " 
asked  the  newspaper  man. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     77 

"Surely,  sir.  My  watch  on  deck  does  not  begin 
until  eight  bells  to-night.  How  you  headed,  sir?" 

"For  Spreckels'  wharf.  There's  a  ship  lying 
there — with  a  survivor  of  the  Halcyon  on  board." 

"The  Halcyon,  sir?"  McGreal  had  stopped  in  his 
tracks.  "I  had  not  heard  she  was  lost." 

"The  Halcyon"  repeated  Wentworth.  "The  loss 
was  cabled  weeks  ago." 

"I  missed  it!"  gasped  McGreal,  still  standing 
with  his  eyes  grown  large.  "The  Halcyon!  Why, 
that  was  my  ship,  sir!" 

"So  it  was,"  agreed  Wentworth.  "She  was 
wrecked  on  the  island  of  Guam,  and  I  am  going  to 
get  the  story." 

"The  story!"  exclaimed  McGreal.  "Oh,  I  see. 
You  are  on  a  newspaper.  Was — was  anybody  lost, 
sir?" 

"Captain  and  two  men  saved,"  replied  Wentworth. 
"Come  along." 

He  started  forward  as  he  spoke,  and  McGreal 
came  stumbling  at  his  heels.  The  sailor  seemed  to  be 
a  bit  dazed,  striking  his  feet  against  the  rough  stones 
of  the  street,  now  and  then  lurching  over  against 
the  high  board  fence,  and  paying  no  heed.  Once, 
turning  sharply  around,  Wentworth  drew  him  literally 
out  from  under  the  feet  of  a  heavy  truck  team  that 
otherwise  would  most  assuredly  have  walked  him 
down. 

"Wake  up,  man!"  cried  Wentworth.  "Didn't 
you  ever  heard  of  a  shipwreck  before?" 


78  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"The  Hakyon,  sir!"  said  McGreal,  feebly.  "All 
of  them  gone!  And  you — to  be  sent  to  get  the  story 
of  the  Halcyon!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Wentworth, 
sharply. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  in  helpless 
fashion. 

"I  think  you  must  be  drunk!'*  said  Wentworth 
at  that,  looking  at  the  sailor  more  sharply  than  he 
had  done  yet. 

McGreal  braced  up  with  an  apparent  effort. 
"Not  me,"  he  said.  "I've  had  nothing  more  than  a 
glass  or  two  of  steam  beer.  It  was  the  shock,  sir." 

However,  he  came  along  very  much  better  after 
that.  Wentworth  found  the  survivor  of  the  Halcyon 
right  enough,  and,  sailorwise,  entirely  willing  to  talk 
to  a  newspaper  man.  The  man  was  seated  on  the 
edge  of  a  bunk  in  the  forecastle  smoking  a  short 
briar  pipe.  With  a  sailor's  limitless  patience  he 
was  just  waiting  for  the  next  turn  of  the  wheel.  He 
would  go,  it  was  likely,  with  the  first  crimp  that 
came  on  board  looking  for  men.  And  as  he  sat,  the 
purser  pointed  him  out  to  Wentworth. 

"Well,  d'ye  see,  sir,  it  was  this  way,"  said  the  sailor, 
when  Wentworth  questioned  him,  after  he  had 
greeted  McGreal  as  a  former  officer  by  touching 
his  forelock.  "It  had  been  blowing  like  hell  out 
of  the  southwest  for  three  days;  and  the  old  tub 
labouring  in  the  biggest  seas  I  ever  saw,  as  if  every 
one  of  them  would  roll  the  engines  out  of  her.  I 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     79 

don't  know  what  possessed  the  old  man — that  was 
Captain  Graeme,  sir — to  run  down  to  Guam,  unless 
it  was  the  passenger." 

"The  passenger?"  exclaimed  Went  worth. 

"He  came  aboard  after  you  left  the  ship,  Mr. 
McGreal,"  said  the  sailor.  "He  was  the  only  man 
that  got  safe  ashore,  the  passenger,  excepting  the 
old  man  and  me,  sir.  My  name,  as  Mr.  McGreal 
here  knows,  is  Oleson — Arvad  Oleson,  sir." 

"Who  was  the  passenger?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"He  called  himself  Norman  Ainsworth,  sir." 

"Where'd  you  get  him?" 

"Well,  I  think  it  was  in  this  port,  sir,  but  I  don't 
rightly  know.  It  was  my  watch  below  when  we 
were  passing  into  San  Francisco,  and  we  went  out 
of  the  port  in  a  fog.  And — and,  when  I  came  aboard, 
sir — well,  I  had  had  a  bit  to  drink — and  the  old  man 
gave  me  a  jolt  with  a  marlin  spike  and  another  watch 
below.  When  I  came  on  deck  again,  outside  the 
Farallones,  there  was  the  passenger,  talking  to  the 
old  man  on  the  after  deck.  A  good  sailor  he  was, 
sir,  and  a  gentleman.  Sent  a  case  of  beer  forward 
the  first  Sunday  out  of  port,  and  every  Sunday  after 
that  until  the  very  last." 

"What  do  you  know  about  this  passenger,  Mc 
Greal?"  asked  Wentworth,  turning  suddenly  to  his 
sailor  footpad  friend. 

"M-me,  sir?    Nothing!" 

"I  thought  you  seemed  to,  a  bit  ago.  Did  the 
Halcyon  carry  passengers?  " 


80  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"She  carried  one  that  voyage,  anyway/*  said 
Oleson.  McGreal  was  mute. 

"There  is  a  touch  of  mystery  here,"  said  Went- 
worth.  "That  makes  it  a  better  story.  But  go 
on  and  tell  us  how  the  wreck  occurred,  Oleson." 

"As  I  was  a-saying,  sir,"  resumed  the  sailor,  "I 
don't  know  what  it  was  possessed  the  old  man  to 
run  down  to  Guam.  She  had  cleared  for  Nagasaki, 
out  of  this  port.  But  there  was  the  island,  right 
enough,  standing  up  rocky  and  black  out  of  those 
big  seas.  And  I  don't  think  the  old  man  was  glad 
of  a  landfall,  one  time.  Still,  it  might  have  been  all 
right,  even  then,  if  she  could  have  got  under  the  lee 
of  the  long  point  of  San  Luis  d'Apra,  to  run  inside. 
The  sea  was  a  fright,  sir,  and  the  wind  howled  like 
the  tail  of  a  tropic  hurricane;  but  she  was  fighting  her 
way  in  for  the  headland,  and  a  little  more  than  hold 
ing  her  own,  when,  snap!  the  propeller  dropped 
clear  away  from  her — broken  short  off  by  a  green  sea, 
and  she  just  fell  over  on  her  side,  the  shaft  racing 
and  smashing  things  to  hash  in  the  belly  of  her. 

"They  got  the  engines  stopped  in  a  minute;  but 
the  seas  were  running  her  right  in  on  the  reef  outside 
the  harbour,  sir.  You  could  see  the  white  spray 
thrown  over  a  hundred  feet  every  time  that  one  of 
them  curled  over  and  broke.  And  there  must  have 
been  a  strong  set  of  the  current  in  toward  the  island, 
too,  because  we  went  drifting  right  down  on  it  at 
better  speed  than  the  Halcyon  had  ever  made  since 
she  was  engined. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     81 

"Of  course  it  wasn't  any  use  to  make  sail.  Those 
tramps  don't  carry  a  rag  to  bless  themselves  that  is 
worth  a  damn.  And  it  wasn't  any  use  to  try  to  leave 
her,  because  a  boat  couldn't  have  lived  in  that  sea. 
We  just  had  to  drift  in  to  destruction  and  take  our 
chance.  It  was  near  about  three  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon  when  we  made  the  landfall,  sir.  It  was  just 
gone  dark  when  she  struck,  once  and  again!  We 
could  see  the  lights  of  a  big  transport  inside  as  we 
came  on,  and  a  searchlight  was  held  on  us.  It 
gave  them  the  sight  of  our  poor  fellows  drowning,  sir. 
They  couldn't  help  us.  Nothing  afloat  could  have 
come  out  into  that  wind  and  sea. 

"And  so  she  struck,  once  and  again,  and  there  was 
an  awful  grinding  and  smashing  noise;  and  the  wild 
shriek  of  the  steam  to  the  top  of  that.  And  then  I 
was  in  the  water,  sir,  with  a  smother  of  white  foam 
all  about  me;  and  a  queer  kind  of  light  all  through 
it,  like  the  green  flames  of  hell. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  got  over  the  reef;  nor  how  any 
man  could  have  passed  it  with  those  ferocious  seas 
beating  straight  down,  and  lived.  I  saw  the  black 
rocks  all  about  me  in  the  shining  water,  and  got 
a  badly  scratched  knee  and  arm,  sir.  Wet  coral 
rocks  are  nasty.  And  then  a  straight  line  of  water 
stood  up  over  me,  like  the  cutting  edge  of  a  long  knife, 
sir,  and  a  wave  threw  me  over  into  still  water,  and 
just  seemed  to  lift  me  above  the  rocks.  Some 
Chimorros  in  a  canoe  picked  me  up  and  took  me 
aboard  the  transport.  I  found  the  old  man  and  the 


82  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

passenger  there.  They  had  been  picked  up,  as  I  had 
been,  by  the  niggers.  And  that  is  all,  sir." 

"What  became  of  Captain  Graeme — and  the 
passenger?" 

"Well,  sir,  they  were  offered  passage  on  the 
Hancock — that's  the  transport  that  was  in  San 
Luis  d'Apra,  storm  bound — and  we  all  came  to 
Honolulu  in  her.  They  would  not  carry  us  beyond 
the  first  regular  port,  sir.  The  old  man  paid  me  off 
at  Honolulu,  and  I  came  on  in  this  ship.  They 
stayed  there." 

"In  Honolulu?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  is  the  Hancock?"  asked  Wentworth,  next. 

"On  the  way  up  from  the  island,  sir.  She  left 
a  day  ahead  of  us,  but  the  transports  are  slow,  sir." 

"Gee!  It's  a  great  story!"  exclaimed  Wentworth. 
"The  Halcyon  was  a  total  loss?" 

"No  more  than  the  bones  of  her  left  by  this," 
replied  Oleson. 

"What  was  her  lading?" 

"She  cleared  this  port  in  ballast,  sir.  She  was 
bound  for  Nagasaki  to  coal,  and  then  to  Hankow 
for  tea." 

"She  was  a  long  way  out  of  her  course,  at  Guam." 

"Five  or  six  hundred  miles,"  agreed  Oleson. 
"But  we  laid  it  to  the  passenger,  sir." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  sir,  there  wasn't  any  special  reason — and 
the  passenger  didn't  stay  at  Guam  after  he  got  there. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "HALCYON"     83 

But  something  took  the  old  man  south,  and  we  got  to 
laying  it  to  the  passenger  among  us." 

"  By  God ! "  exclaimed  Wentworth.  "  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  the  passenger  is  the  whole  story! 
What  kind  of  looking  man  was  he,  this  passenger, 
Ains  worth?" 

"Well,  sir,"  replied  the  sailor,  "he  was  much  about 
your  build,  but  older,  and  heavier.  He  was  near 
fifty,  I  should  say,  sir;  maybe  more,  maybe  less. 
He  grew  a  heavy  beard  and  moustache  on  the  ship; 
and  his  hair  was  gray.  But  his  eyes  had  a  twinkle 
in  them,  like  yours,  sir;  and  he  was  very  pleasant- 
spoken  and  civil.  Dressed,  sir — well,  like  a  lands 
man.  And  was  very  curious  about  all  the  workings 
of  a  ship." 

It  was  a  description  that  might  have  fitted  any 
one  of  a  million  of  middle-aged  men.  The  sailor 
had  eyes,  but,  clearly,  no  manner  of  notion  of  the 
use  of  them  where  men  were  concerned.  Wentworth 
was  baffled.  There  was  about  this  mysterious  pas 
senger  on  the  Halcyon  something  that  it  was  desirable 
to  throw  light  upon,  and  he  hardly  knew  which  way 
to  look,  unless  McGreal  could  give  him  a  line,  once 
they  were  away  from  the  sailor.  McGreal  had 
seemed  to  know  about  the  passenger,  although  he 
had  later  disclaimed  any  knowledge.  That  might 
have  been  to  throw  Oleson  off.  Wentworth  turned 
to  McGreal  now. 

"  Come  along,"  he  said.    " I've  got  all  I  want  here." 

He  slipped  a  silver  dollar  into  Oleson 's  hand  as  he 


84  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

spoke,  and  started  out.  McGreal  did  not  follow 
at  once,  and,  turning  to  ask  Oleson  one  more  ques 
tion,  Wentworth  saw  that  the  fourth  mate  of  the 
Sherman  was  whispering  very  earnestly  to  the  sur 
vivor  of  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon. 

"I  don't  believe  you  told  me  the  date  of  the  wreck, 
Oleson,"  Wentworth  said. 

"It  was  on  the  28th  of  April,  sir.  We  were  just 
twenty-three  days  out  of  San  Francisco." 

Then  Wentworth  left  the  steamer,  McGreal  fol 
lowing  him,  and,  which  he  thought  a  little  odd, 
Oleson  came  along,  too,  slinging  a  bundle  of  dunnage 
over  his  shoulder.  At  the  head  of  the  wharf,  Went 
worth  turned  to  ask  McGreal  something  apart  from 
the  other,  thinking,  naturally,  that  Oleson  would 
drift  along  to  the  first  saloon  that  chanced  to  be  in 
his  way.  But  Oleson  stopped,  too,  and  McGreal, 
coming  very  close  to  Wentworth,  said  in  a  tone  that 
was  almost  a  whisper: 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Wentworth!  I'll  see  that 
no  other  reporter  gets  at  Oleson  here.  We  have 
made  that  up  between  us.  And,"  sinking  his  voice 
still  lower,  "if  I  were  you,  sir,  I  wouldn't  make  too 
much  of  a  story  about  the  Halcyon's  passenger." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED 

WHAT  the  devil  have  you  got  to  do  with 
my  story  of  the  Halcyon's  passenger?" 
flashed  Wentworth. 

His  purpose  to  get  points  from  McGreal  as  to  the 
career  of  the  tramp  steamer  that  had  laid  her  bones 
on  the  reef  outside  the  harbour  of  San  Luis  d'Apra 
was  lost  sight  of  in  a  moment,  and  with  the  quick 
instinct  of  the  newspaper  man  he  resented  this 
interference  by  an  outsider  with  the  manner  of  his 
work. 

McGreal,  on  his  part,  took  no  offence  at  the  tone 
of  the  question.  He  looked  into  the  face  of  Went 
worth,  and  there  was  real  sorrow  in  his  eyes. 

"It  is  as  I  say,  sir,"  with  a  strange  manner  of  in 
sistence.  "If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  make  too  much 
of  a  story  about  the  Halcyon's  passenger." 

"By  God;  you've  got  to  tell  me  what  you  mean!" 
cried  Wentworth. 

"Why,  yes,  sir;  I'll  do  that,"  replied  McGreal. 
"Come  over  to  the  Blue  Wind,  sir.  We  can  get  a 
room  to  talk  in,  there." 

He  led  the  way  across  the  wide  road  along  the 
waterfront,  dodging  trucks  and  electric  cars,  to 

85 


86  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  row  of  groggeries  facing  the  wharves  on  that 
side;  and  Wentworth  and  the  sailor  Oleson  followed 
along  after  him.  The  Blue  Wind  saloon,  a  typical 
resort  of  the  front,  stood  open  to  the  street,  and  a 
wavering  row  of  the  men  of  the  salt  sea,  more  or  less 
under  the  influence  of  the  drinks  of  the  land,  stood 
before  the  long  bar  down  all  one  side  of  the  place. 
They  talked,  or  shouted,  or  just  stared  stupidly, 
with  eyes  that  saw  only  the  visions  of  the  drunken, 
but  they  all  called  for  more  drink,  and  all  drank. 
The  two  bloated,  red-faced  men  behind  the  bar,  in 
dirty  white  aprons,  had  all  they  could  do  to  serve 
them.  And  a  boy,  in  a  white  apron  rather  more 
dirty,  was  kept  going  backward  and  forward  across 
the  sanded  floor  with  drinks  for  other  men  seated 
at  the  small  tables  standing  in  a  row  on  the  side  of 
the  room  opposite  the  bar. 

McGreal  knew  the  place,  and  was  known  in  it. 
He  paused,  in  passing  through,  just  long  enough  to 
say  to  one  of  the  men  behind  the  bar:  "Send  us  in 
three  steams  to  the  Glory  Hole,  Bill!" 

The  man  so  addressed  nodded,  by  way  of  assent, 
and  McGreal  led  the  way  out  through  a  back  door, 
and  for  a  little  distance  along  a  dark  corridor  in  the 
rear  of  the  saloon.  He  turned  from  this  into  a  dingy 
room,  feebly  lighted  by  one  dirty,  fly-specked,  sixteen- 
candle-power  electric  bulb  swung  from  the  ceiling 
above  a  small,  round  table  with  four  rickety  chairs 
about  it.  The  place  reeked  of  the  fumes  of  stale 
beer  and  sewer  water.  The  floor,  of  rough  boards, 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED  87 

sounded  hollow  to  the  tread  of  men.  It  seemed  to 
have  been  the  floor  of  a  wharf  at  one  time  and  to 
cover,  now,  an  obscene  cavity  wherein  might  abide 
nameless  horrors.  And,  indeed,  it  is  likely  that  it  was 
a  section  of  some  old  wharf.  All  that  part  of  the 
front  is  built  on  made  land. 

The  walls  of  the  room  were  splotched  with  mildew, 
breaking  out  in  impolite  places  on  the  pictures,  mostly 
of  ladies  in  scant  attire,  or  no  attire  at  all,  cut  from 
illustrated  gutter  weeklies,  and  pasted  up  by  way 
of  mural  decoration.  The  years  had  dimmed  the 
pictures,  too,  the  years  and  the  damp,  and  Jack's 
gross  familiarity  with  these  questionable  female  pre 
sentments  had  not  always  been  happy. 

McGreal  sat  down  at  the  round  table.  Oleson, 
who  seemed  at  home  here  just  as  he  had  seemed  at 
home  in  the  forecastle  of  the  ship,  dropped  his  bundle 
on  the  rough  floor  and  sat  down  likewise.  Went- 
worth,  sniffing,  rolled  and  lighted  a  cigarette  by 
way  of  fumigation  and  self-defence  before  following 
the  example  of  his  companions.  And  by  the  time 
he  had  done  that,  the  bar  boy  had  come  in  with  his 
tray,  had  set  three  foaming  glasses  of  steam  beer 
on  the  table,  pocketed  the  three  nickels  laid  down  by 
McGreal,  and  gone  out  again. 

"Now,  McGreal!"  said  Wentworth,  reaching  out 
for  his  glass  of  beer.  "  Out  with  it ! " 

The  fourth  mate  of  the  Sherman  blew  the  foam  off 
his  beer,  and  sipped  it  slowly.  Oleson  had  gulped 
his  down  at  once  and  set  the  empty  glass  back  on  the 


88  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

table;  seeing  which,  Wentworth  slid  toward  the 
sailor  his  own  measure  of  the  beverage.  But 
McGreal  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  begin.  He  sipped 
his  beer,  still  slowly,  but,  at  that,  probably  not  so 
slowly  as  his  thoughts  shaped  themselves  for  speech. 
Wentworth  found  a  button  on  the  table,  pressed  it, 
ordered,  and  paid  for  three  more  glasses  of  steam 
beer,  and  the  silence  in  the  Glory  Hole  was  not 
broken. 

"Take  all  day  if  you  need  it,  McGreal!"  Went 
worth  said,  as  he  rolled  himself  a  second  cigarette. 
"Of  course  I'm  in  no  hurry!" 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  fourth  mate  at  last,  "I  don't 
know  as  it's  much  to  tell,  or  whether  it  will  strike 
you  as  it  does  me,  sir.  But  it  was  a  thought  that 
crossed  me  when  I  first  heard  your  name — that  day 
we  came  up  from  the  south  in  your  devil  wagon." 

"And  what  has  this  thought,  whatever  it  is,  got 
to  do  with  my  story  of  the  Halcyon's  passenger?" 
asked  Wentworth. 

"Why,  there  it  is,  sir!  The  thought  crossed  me 
again  to-day,  when  I  heard  you  say  the  passenger 
was  the  story.  I  believe  that  the  passenger  is  the 
story.  But  it  is  not  a  story  you  may  write." 

"I'll  be  damned,"  cried  Wentworth,  starting  as 
if  he  would  get  up  from  his  chair,  "if  I  can  tell  what 
the  man  is  driving  at!" 

"Hold  on  a  second!"  cried  McGreal.  "Let  me 
get  my  bearings;  I  have  not  told  you  yet." 

"That  is  the  first  sensible  thing  you  have  said 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED  89 

since  we  arrived.     You  have  not  told  me  yet.     Do 
you  intend  to  tell  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  fourth  mate,  seriously.  "I 
do.  The  Halcyon  came  to  San  Francisco  solely  to 
get  that  passenger.  Do  you  mind  when  I  told  you 
why  I  left  the  steamer  at  Pedro?" 

"You  said  something  about  helping  a  robber  to 
get  away  with  the  loot  of  widows  and  orphans,"  re 
plied  Wentworth — and  in  a  lower  key  than  he  had 
heretofore  used.  He  had  gone  white  as  that  memory 
came  back  to  him  with  another  associated  memory: 
his  own  thoughts  at  the  time. 

"That  was  it,  sir,"  said  McGreal.  "I  don't  like 
to  go  on  from  that — but  it  looks  like  it  was  my  duty. 
The  old  man,  Captain  Graeme,  sir,  did  not  tell  me 
who  his  passenger  was  to  be.  We  were  to  receive  him 
aboard  ship  after  we  came  to  anchor.  He  wanted 
the  man  on  watch  to  do  that  and  stow  him  away— 
not  wishing  to  appear  in  the  thing  directly  himself. 
A  captain  would  better  be  able  to  carry  a  straight 
yarn  to  the  owners,  in  case  of  things  happening. 
Of  course  he  couldn't  throw  a  man  overboard  after 
he  was  on  deck  and  she  was  outside,  d'you  see? 
And  his  duty  to  his  owners  would  not  permit  him 
to  turn  back,  excepting  for  grave  cause,  when  he  had 
cleared  the  port,  and  got  outside.  Besides,  the  pas 
senger  would  not  want  to  go  back. 

"But  a  man  might  be  carried  out  of  his  course  by 
wind  and  current  far  enough,  sir,  once  he  was  at 
sea,  to  land  a  man  who  wanted  to  leave  the  ship  at 


90  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Guam — or  even  at  Yap,  say.  The  man  on  the  deck 
watch  had  only  to  receive  the  man  on  board  and 
hide  him  in  an  empty  cabin — and  then  keep  up  a 
pretence  of  ignorance,  whatever  he  might  see,  to 
earn  a  thousand  dollars.  I  am  not  better  than  an 
other  man,  and  I  agreed  to  the  scheme  that  far. 
But  I  did  say  a  thousand  dollars  was  a  pretty  fancy 
price  to  pay — just  for  helping.  And  it  was  then  that 
the  old  man  blurted  out  that  a  stowaway  who  was 
put  aboard  by  a  man  who  had  probably  got  away 
with  the  savings  of  most  of  the  widows,  and  had 
robbed  a  lot  of  the  orphans  of  San  Francisco,  could 
afford  to  buy  all  the  sailors  running  out  of  the  port, 
body  and  breeches." 

"And — and,  then?"  asked  Wentworth.  He  had 
to  take  a  long  drink  of  the  steam  beer  before  he  could 
get  that  much  out.  His  lips,  when  he  tried  to  speak, 
felt  as  though  a  swift  flame  had  seared  them. 

"Well,  sir,  I've  done  a  lot  of  things  in  my  time, 
and  I  don't  have  to  make  any  treaty  with  my  con 
science  in  the  ordinary  run  of  every  day,  but  taking 
the  money  of  women  and  children,  or  helping  away 
the  man  who  takes  it,  is  one  too  strong  for  me.  And 
so  I  went  over  the  side  at  Pedro.  It  was  the  only 
way  out.  I  knew  the  old  man,  sir.  He  would  never 
consent  to  my  discharge;  and,  after  what  he  had 
told  me,  it  was  possible  that  I  might  make  the  voy 
age  to  San  Francisco  in  irons;  and  lie  in  them  until 
the  steamer  cleared  again  from  there." 

"And — and,  the  Halcyon's  passenger?"  whispered 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED  91 

Went  worth.  He  knew  what  the  answer  to  his  ques 
tion  would  be,  what  it  must  be,  but  something  that 
seemed  apart  from  himself  impelled  him  to  force 
the  sailor  to  frame  the  words.  All  that  Upson  had 
said  to  him  in  justification  of  his  father  came  back 
to  him,  but  seemed  feeble  in  the  face  of  McGreal's 
plain  relation.  With  that  realization,  a  load  of 
guilt  seemed  to  form  itself  on  Wentworth's  own  shoul 
ders,  bearing  him  down.  He  looked  around  the  room 
always  away  from  McGreal,  taking  in  the  dark 
interior,  and  the  sailor  Oleson  asleep  in  his  chair. 
And  he  came  back  to  his  question  with  a  strange 
insistence,  whispering  it  once  more. 

"There  was  only  one  man — who  fitted  the  case — 
who  slipped  out  of  San  Francisco  on  the  day  the 
Halcyon  sailed,"  whispered  McGreal,  leaning  across 
the  table  with  his  face  close  to  Wentworth's. 

Still  Wentworth  would  spare  neither  the  sailor 
nor  himself.  "And  that  man  was?  "  he  asked. 

"Hush!"  whispered  McGreal,  warningly.  "Cap 
tain  Greame  never  told  me  the  name  of  his  passenger, 
sir.  The  Halcyon  passed  out  through  the  Heads  on 
the  evening  of  the  very  day  that  the  Bank  of  the 
Pacific  closed  its  doors." 

Thus  the  sailor  slipped  away  from  the  utterance 
of  the  name.  And  Wentworth  sat  dazed,  like  a  man 
whose  life  is  stricken  all  at  once.  McGreal,  still 
leaning  across  the  table,  went  on : 

"I  felt  it,  sir,  on  that  day  at  the  garage,  when  I 
first  heard  your  name  spoken.  It  came  over  me  all 


92  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

at  once,  like.  But  still  I  could  not  be  sure;  and  it 
was  not  for  me  to  make  charges.  I  would  not  help 
Captain  Graeme  to  carry  out  his  plot,  but  at  least, 
after  the  man  had  got  clear  away,  it  was  none  of  my 
business  to  put  the  dogs  on  his  track.  I  could  hold 
my  tongue.  The  Halcyon  had  not  been  lost,  then. 
And  you  had  been  very  good  to  me,  sir." 

Wentworth  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  before 
there  came  a  slowly  dawning  consciousness  of  the 
meaning  of  what  he  had  said. 

"And  did  you — did  you,"  he  asked,  at  last,  "think 
that  I  knew?" 

"What  was  I  to  think?  He  was  your  father. 
Until  I  heard  you  say  that  the  Halcyon's  passenger 
was  the  story,  I  thought  so." 

"Great  God!"  ejaculated  Wentworth.  And  then, 
for  a  long  time,  he  sat  silent.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
the  years  rushed  in  on  him  through  the  dark  of  that 
dingy  room.  He  was  very,  very  tired;  like  an  old 
man.  But  his  faith  must  not  go.  He  must  pull 
himself  together.  The  darker  the  skies  lowered, 
the  more  firmly  and  fiercely  would  he  struggle  on 
to  make  head  against  the  breaking  storm. 

The  fact  that  the  sailor,  his  friend,  had  believed 
his  father  a  thief,  and  himself  a  sharer  in  the  shame, 
was  but  one  more  reason  for  the  struggle.  Went 
worth  knew  that  McGreal's  tale  was  true;  his  con 
jecture  as  to  the  identity  of  the  Halcyon's  passenger 
sound.  The  other  sailor's  tale  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Halcyon  bore  it  out.  And  the  tale  being  true,  how 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED  93 

hard  would  it  be  to  find  a  reason  for  that  planned 
flight — beyond  doubt  with  something  of  the  loot 
of  the  bank  in  hand? 

He  rose,  at  last,  and  staggered  out  of  the  place, 
almost  like  one  drunk.  The  fourth  mate  watched 
him  go  without  a  word.  But,  after  he  had  gone, 
McGreal  leaned  over  the  other  sailor,  and  made 
sure  that  he  slept  soundly.  Then  he  himself  went 
out,  turning  the  key  in  the  lock  outside  the  door  as 
he  went.  It  was  one  of  the  peculiar  things  about 
the  Glory  Hole  that  a  man  in  the  confidence  of  the 
house  could  always  thus  pass  out  and  hold  on  the 
inside  any  companion  guilty  of  the  indiscretion  of 
going  to  sleep  in  his  chair. 

"Give  him  whatever  he  asks  for,"  McGreal  stop 
ped  to  whisper  to  his  friend  behind  the  bar  as  he  went 
toward  the  street,  jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
in  the  direction  of  the  room  he  had  just  quitted. 
"But  hold  him.  I  want  him  hi  the  SJierman.  We 
were  shipmates  before.'* 

"What's  in  it  for  me?"  asked  the  landlord  of  the 
Blue  WTind,  nodding  his  head  in  acquiescence. 

"Twenty,  and  the  usual  percentage  of  advance." 

"Good  enough!"  replied  the  crimp.  "He's  your 
man." 

Once  he  was  in  the  outer  air  Wentworth's  thoughts 
cleared  quickly  enough.  He  would  have  liked  to 
consult  Upson  on  this  new  development,  but  it  was 
growing  late,  and  the  newspaper  was  exigent.  Long 
white  streamers  of  the  night  fog  were  already  begin- 


94  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

ning  to  scurry  along  the  streets,  to  beat  the  backs 
of  the  crowds  hurrying  to  catch  the  suburban  ferries, 
to  curl  and  eddy  around  the  high  facade  and  tower 
of  the  ferry  building.  He  must  report  back  at  once 
to  Hanna,  in  the  shed  on  Peterson's  wharf. 

Wentworth,  indeed,  did  not  hesitate  for  one  mo 
ment  about  his  duty  to  the  newspaper.  That  duty 
to  the  newspaper  must  be  defined  with  reference 
to  another  duty  which,  for  him,  might  be  higher. 
And  in  his  definition  of  his  duty  Wentworth  did 
not  attempt  to  delude  himself  with  sophisticated 
arguments.  If  his  conjecture  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  Halcyon's  passenger,  which  agreed  with  McGreaFs 
conjecture,  was  well  founded,  then  the  wreck  of  the 
Halcyon  became  a  newspaper  story  of  much  greater 
magnitude  than  any  that  he  had  ever  handled. 
But  it  became,  also,  a  story  that  he  could  not  handle. 
Of  course  there  was  the  possibility  that  McGreal 
and  himself  might  be  mistaken;  that  the  departure  of 
the  tramp  steamer  on  the  day  that  the  bank  closed 
its  doors  was  a  coincidence;  that  in  the  incidents  of 
crime  in  a  great  city  there  might  be  more  than  one 
defaulter  interested  to  get  away. 

But  Wentworth  dismissed  the  alternative  possi 
bilities  with  no  more  than  a  thought,  and  made  up 
his  mind  to  tell  his  story  without  suggestion;  and 
be  then  governed  by  events.  He  reported  to  Hanna 
and  suppressing  the  tale  McGreal  had  told  him,  saw 
the  waterfront  man  pass  over  very  lightly  the  cir 
cumstance  of  the  presence  of  the  passenger  on  the 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  SAVED  95 

wrecked  steamer.  For  Hanna  knew  the  devious 
ways  of  the  captains  of  tramps — and  of  all  drunken 
sailors. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Hanna,  when  he  had  listened 
to  the  tale.  "A  passenger!  Those  tramps  have 
no  license  to  carry  passengers.  But  they  all  do  it. 
Name  of  Norman  Ains worth,  the  sailor  said?  I 
suppose  the  captain  of  the  Halcyon  has  broken  the 
law  in  every  port  in  the  world  in  his  time.  I  know 
him.  Well,  he  won't  come  back  here  to  answer  for 
this  infraction  for  awhile — and,  when  he  does  come 
back,  it  will  have  been  forgotten.  But  it's  a  good 
story,  Went  worth.  Write  me  a  thousand  words  of 
it." 

Wentworth  went  up  to  the  office  at  that,  and  wrote 
the  thousand  words,  as  he  had  been  bidden.  And  he 
received  the  congratulations  of  the  Night  City  Editor 
on  the  vividness  of  his  relation.  Also,  he  heard  an  order 
go  up  to  the  art  room  for  a  layout  of  it;  with  the  pic 
ture  of  the  Halcyon  and  of  Captain  Graeme.  No 
body  seemed  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the  touch 
of  mystery  he  had  thrown  about  the  identity  of  the 
passenger  saved  from  the  wreck  of  the  tramp) — the 
passenger  on  the  ship  which  had  sailed  on  the  very 
day  that  the  President  of  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific 
vanished  from  among  men. 

Wentworth  went  to  dinner  after  he  had  turned 
in  his  story,  but  to  the  St.  Francis  Grill  instead  of,  as 
usual,  to  Paul's.  As  he  had  hoped,  he  found  Upson 
there.  They  dined  together — and  sat  so  long  in 


96  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

talk  after  dinner  that  Wentworth  would  have  earned 
a  strong  rebuke,  if  not  something  worse,  at  the  hands 
of  the  City  Editor  for  his  failure  to  show  up  for  his 
night  assignment,  if  it  had  not  been  that  the  course 
of  the  talk  soon  put  him  beyond  caring  for  the  office 
at  all.  How  far  he  had  gone  beyond  caring  was 
shown  in  his  parting  words  to  Upson. 

"It  will  suit  me  down  to  the  ground,  old  man, 
if  you  can  manage  transportation  on  the  Sherman. 
If  that  is  impossible,  the  Hortense  sails  in  three  days. 
She  will  land  me  in  Honolulu  in  six  from  that.  The 
transport  will  only  beat  that  by  a  couple  of  days." 

"I  can  manage  it  without  any  trouble  at  all," 
replied  Upson.  "Come  to  my  office  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  and  we  will  go  down  and  see  the 
Quartermaster.  You  can  attend  to  your  letter  of 
credit  afterward." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   ENGLISHMAN 

OUT  of  the  massed  pictures  of  the  trade  wind 
clouds  lying  all  along  the  southern  horizon 
leaped,  upon  a  rainy  morning,  a  point  of  blue 
that  did  not  change  its  shape  as  the  outlines  of  the 
cloud  pictures  changed.  So  the  U.  S.  Transport 
Sherman,  faring  steadily  for  seven  days  and  nights 
into  the  southwest  across  a  sea  that  seemed  the  most 
lonely  in  the  world,  made  her  landfall  on  Makapuu 
Point  on  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day.  She  had 
passed  and  spoken  the  Hancock  one  day  out  of  San 
Francisco. 

John  Wentworth,  standing  on  the  bridge  alongside 
the  Quartermaster-Captain,  saw  the  outline  of  the 
blue  point  rise  and  strengthen,  while  the  cloud  pic 
tures  were  ceaselessly  dissolving  and  building  up 
again  beyond  it,  until  at  last  the  whole  black  and 
rugged  coast  of  Windward  Oahu  stood  out  from  the 
sea;  and,  on  either  hand,  Molokai  and  the  Hana 
Coast  of  Maui  loomed  dimly. 

Following  that  Windward  Coast,  the  white  line 
of  the  breaking  seas  arose  and  changed  and  fell  at 
the  base  of  the  tall  cathedral  cliffs.  Rabbitt  Island 
broke  from  the  larger  land  mass  at  last,  and  then 

97 


98  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

there  were  the  pallid  green  cane  fields  of  Waimanalo, 
with  a  rugged  ridge  of  bars,  brown  craters  towering 
behind  them.  And  the  Sherman  floated  into  the 
sheltered  water  around  Coco  Head;  and  Diamond 
Head,  old  and  massive  and  hoary,  leaped  into  the 
picture,  with  many  white  villas  peeping  out  from 
the  massed  foliage  of  the  algaroba  thickets  at  its 
base. 

Just  at  half  speed,  as  a  white  ship  glides  across  a 
stage  picture,  the  Sherman  moved  along  in  front  of 
beautiful  Waikiki;  and  the  graceful  cocoanut  trees 
held  themselves  like  stars  against  the  bit  of  clear 
sky  that  curved  down  to  fill  the  space  of  Waialae 
Gap,  between  the  hills. 

Honolulu  stood  revealed,  white  houses  with  red 
roofs,  in  a  wilderness  of  tropical  foliage.  Beyond 
the  city  the  green  hills  curved  from  Tantalus  to 
Round  Top,  with  the  Nuuanu  and  Manoa  valleys  run 
ning  far  back;  and  the  endless  procession  of  the  rain 
bows  moved  in  stately  gorgeousness  across  the 
forested  highlands  under  the  cloud  masses  that  cling, 
always,  holding  the  rain,  to  the  summits  of  the  high 
est  peaks. 

The  Sherman  was  one  of  those  outworn  iron  tubs, 
rechristened,  which  were  unloaded  in  numbers  on 
the  Government  by  their  owners  in  the  hurry  to  pro 
cure  transports  which  marked  the  panicky  first 
days  of  the  Spanish  War.  She  had  been,  when  new, 
one  of  the  first  of  the  "Atlantic  Greyhounds,"  and 
in  her  day  capable  of  fair  speed.  She  had  become 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  99 

rather  of  the  Newfoundland  Pup  order  by  the  time 
she  passed  into  Government  ownership,  and  a  pup 
of  somewhat  clumsy  habit  at  that.  But  the  north 
Pacific  is  calm  enough,  in  the  summer  months,  and 
she  tumbled  away  before  the  long  swells  out  of  the 
north  if  not  with  speed,  certainly  with  safety. 

Wentworth  found  that  the  transport  travelled  all 
too  slowly  for  his  impatience  in  the  first  three  days 
out  of  San  Francisco.  Upson  had  had  no  trouble  in 
arranging  for  his  transportation  on  the  Government 
vessel  as  far  as  Honolulu,  and  farther  if  it  should  suit 
his  purpose  to  go  on  from  there.  None  but  soldiers 
and  officers  of  the  Government,  with  their  families, 
were  supposed  to  travel  on  the  transports,  but  that 
rule,  very  rigidly  enforced  now,  was  a  long  time 
in  coming  strictly  into  effect.  And  Upson  and  the 
Depot-Quartermaster  in  San  Francisco  were  very 
chummy. 

Wentworth  had  sent  his  written  resignation  to  the 
City  Editor  of  the  Call,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
day  of  the  publication  of  his  story  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Halcyon,  found  himself  in  a  comfortable  cabin  amid 
ships  as  the  transport  dropped  down  through  the 
heads  and  met  the  black  seas  on  the  bar.  The 
Sherman  was  making  this  voyage  with  supplies  for 
the  army  in  the  islands,  carrying  only  a  few  casuals  by 
way  of  passengers. 

For  the  first  three  days  out  of  San  Francisco  she 
ran  with  a  strong  slant  of  northwest  wind,  kicking 
up  a  beam  sea  that  made  her  roll  until  every  inch 


100  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

of  exposed  deck  space  on  her  was  sopping.  That, 
naturally,  did  not  contribute  anything  to  the  com 
fort  of  the  voyage.  Nor  did  it  make  Went  worth's 
case  any  easier.  A  man  is  doubly  uncomfortable  on 
whom  wet  and  anxiety  prey  at  the  same  time. 

But  they  ran  into  the  Trades  on  the  morning  of 
the  fourth  day  out,  and  the  wizardry  of  those  winds 
changed  the  whole  world.  The  motion  of  the  ship 
eased.  The  seas  rose  and  fell  but  lazily,  and  with 
favouring  direction.  The  perfumed  air  seemed  to 
come  over  the  blue  waters  from  the  very  gates  of 
Paradise,  and  behind  the  squalls  of  rain  that  ran 
pattering  across  the  face  of  the  deep  with  the  passing 
of  each  changing  cloud  opened  a  vista  of  such  ravish 
ing  colour  as  might  have  been  a  glimpse  vouchsafed 
to  man  into  the  streets  of  the  Wondrous  City.  It 
was  only  the  rainbow,  but,  set  above  that  sea  in  the 
castles  and  battlemented  towers  of  the  clouds,  it 
was  like  a  fleeting  vision  of  the  glory  of  the  angel 
host. 

Wentworth  felt  that  life  had  never  been  freely 
his  to  enjoy  until  he  breathed  the  velvet  air  of  the 
Trades  that  first  morning.  The  troubles  that  had 
vexed  him  while  the  steamer  tumbled  along  through 
the  darker  seas  of  the  north  dropped  from  him. 
They  would  come  back  again,  of  course.  If  a  man 
may  lay  down  trouble,  even  at  the  portal  of  the  grave 
—well,  that  will  be  enough  for  the  grave  to  offer. 

But,  for  the  moment,  his  impatience  vanished; 
his  anxiety  to  find  the  passenger  saved  from  the  wreck 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  101 

of  the  Halcyon  was  put  away;  his  fear  of  the  ghost 
that  might  arise  and  walk  when  he  found  that  passen 
ger  died.  He  was  content  to  live  and  breathe,  watch 
ing  the  goonies  as  they  circled  in  lazy  flight  about  the 
steamer,  letting  the  ship  fare  on — the  more  slowly 
over  his  dreamland  of  the  deep,  the  better. 

At  Honolulu  awakening  came.  When  the  Sherman, 
after  passing  Quarantine,  docked  at  the  Navy  Wharf, 
he  was  one  of  the  first  men  on  shore.  Upon  another 
occasion,  as  on  his  first  visit  to  the  islands,  the 
outland  life  of  this  remote  city  in  Uncle  Sam's  domain 
would  have  interested  him  greatly.  The  strange 
cries  of  the  native  Hawaiians,  one  to  another,  like 
the  barking  of  dogs  across  the  narrow  harbour;  the 
brown  divers  calling  to  the  people  on  the  transport 
to  throw  small  coins  into  the  water;  the  sellers  of 
leis;  the  chaff ering  in  the  King  Street  markets  of 
dark  men  and  women  of  many  races,  chiefly  as  it 
seemed  concerned  with  the  buying  and  selling  of 
bizarre-looking  fishes;  the  mingling  in  the  building 
of  the  town  of  the  architecture  of  the  east  and  of  the 
west;  the  busy  life  of  the  Americans  touching  the 
lazy  indolence  of  the  natives  and  the  Portuguese  half 
castes,  with  the  darker  colouring  of  the  Japanese 
and  Chinese  showing  always  as  a  part  of  the  life 
picture — all  these  things  were  well  worth  the  study 
of  any  man  from  staider  lands. 

But,  filled  with  the  purpose  that  had  brought  him 
to  that  beach,  Wentworth  walked  rapidly  to  the 
head  of  the  wharf  and  caught  a  passing  Alakea 


102  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Street  car  to  King  Street.  His  own  newspaper  ex 
perience,  short  as  it  had  been,  had  taught  him  that 
in  any  American  city  which  breasts  the  outer  seas 
a  man  must  seek  first  among  newspaper  men  for 
light  on  the  things  which  come  up  out  of  the  deep. 
The  conductor  of  the  car  stopped  it  at  Bang  Street 
for  him,  and  obligingly  told  him  that  it  was  so  short 
a  walk  to  the  office  of  the  Commercial  Advertiser  that 
it  would  hardly  be  worth  his  while  to  wait  for  the  con 
necting  car,  to  which  he  had  given  him  a  transfer. 

Following  the  man's  directions,  Wentworth  walked 
rapidly  along  east  on  King  Street — Ewa,  they  call 
that  direction  in  the  islands — and  found  the  place 
he  sought  up  one  flight  of  steps  in  a  low  brick  build 
ing.  It  was  then  just  early  luncheon  time.  The 
Commercial  Advertiser  is  the  morning  paper  of  Hono 
lulu,  and  at  that  hour  none  of  the  staff  had  reported 
for  duty.  But  an  obliging  man  in  the  business  office 
told  Wentworth  that  he  would  probably  find  Mr. 
Pray,  the  marine  reporter,  at  breakfast  in  the  Union 
Grill,  next  door,  and  went  down  on  the  street  with 
the  stranger  to  point  him  out. 

Mr.  Pray  was  at  breakfast.  He  was  eating  papaia, 
with  cracked  ice  in  it,  at  a  little  table  facing  the  street 
right  in  the  front  of  the  Grill.  Furthermore,  as  the 
luncheon  crowd  had  not  yet  begun  to  come  in  from 
the  business  offices  round  about,  he  was  alone  in 
the  place  save  for  the  presence  of  a  white-clad  waiter 
or  two  hovering  in  the  background;  and  of  a  tall 
man,  with  a  face  like  that  of  Mephistopheles  and  in 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  103 

something  of  the  dress  of  the  Greek  stage  pirate,  even 
to  the  crimson  sash,  who  lounged  behind  a  little 
counter  in  front  of  a  long,  low  window  opening  to 
the  street.  Through  this  he  could  conveniently 
dispense  cigars  to  passers  along  the  highway. 

Mr.  Pray  was  approachable  and  obliging,  and— 
being  a  newspaper  man — not  curious.  He  had 
written  the  story  of  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon  for  the 
Advertiser  a  little  while  before. 

"Oh,  the  Englishman!"  he  exclaimed,  when  Went- 
worth  mentioned  that  he  had  a  particular  interest 
in  the  passenger.  He  smiled  a  little  and  in  a  peculiar 
fashion,  as  he  said  it. 

"The  Englishman?"  repeated  Wentworth. 

"Sure!  If  your  friend  is  not  an  Englishman, 
you  are  on  the  wrong  track.  This  man  is  the  most 
decidely  English  Englishman  I  ever  saw,"  replied 
Pray.  "The  very  first  thing  that  he  tells  you  about 
himself  is  that  he  is  an  Englishman,  and  he  doesn't 
have  to  tell  you,  at  that." 

For  the  rest,  Pray  said  that  Ainsworth  was  a  tall 
man  with  full  gray  beard  and  gray  hair.  He  might 
be  sixty  years  old,  but  was  well  preserved,  and  carried 
himself  as  a  much  younger  man.  His  eyes  were 
keen  with  a  twinkle  in  them  that  reminded  you — 
and  he  begged  pardon — of  his  questioner.  Mr. 
Wentworth,  was  it?  Thanks!  He  did  not  suppose 
there  could  be  any  relationship.  But  the  resemblance 
was  very  marked,  barring  the  full  beard,  of  course. 

Now,  while  Wentworth  was  conscious  of  a  feeling 


104  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

of  relief  consequent  on  Fray's  announcement  of  the 
nationality  of  the  passenger  saved  from  the  wreck 
of  the  Halcyon,  there  was  left  by  the  newspaper  man's 
manner,  even  more  than  by  his  description  of  Ains- 
worth,  an  impression  not  comfortable.  There  was 
no  mockery  in  the  tone  with  which  he  had  spoken 
of  the  Englishman,  but  there  was  a  palpable  some 
thing  that  might  have  been  the  shadow  of  mockery, 
a  hint  of  ridicule,  as  though  Ainsworth  had  been 
found  amusing.  And  yet  Pray  spoke  with  perfect 
seriousness;  and  with  an  evident  purpose  to  give 
all  the  enlightenment  in  his  power.  Certainly  there 
was  no  perceptible  attempt  at  suppression. 

Wentworth,  listening  with  that  queer  impression 
of  discomfort  barely  defined  in  his  mind,  sought  to 
analyze  what  it  was  about  Pray's  story  that  had 
created  it.  His  father,  as  was  the  Englishman  de 
scribed,  had  been  a  tall  man,  and  it  had  often  been 
remarked  in  Wentworth's  hearing  that  father  and 
son  were  much  alike.  To  be  sure,  Elliot  Wentworth 
had  always  gone  clean  shaven,  but  the  sailor  Oleson 
had  said  that  the  Halcyon's  passenger  grew  a  beard 
on  shipboard.  And  eyes,  and  manner,  and  the  whole 
description  from  this  keen  observer  of  men  fitted. 
But  if  Ainsworth  were  an  Englishman,  then,  of  course, 
resemblance  ceased  to  count  and  the  whole  matter 
of  the  quest  was  off.  He  had  not  come  to  the  islands 
looking  after  any  vagrant  English. 

And  yet  it  might  have  occurred  to  a  fugitive  seek 
ing  to  hide  his  identity  to  cultivate  the  English 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  105 

manner  and  so  make  his  disguise  complete.  The 
sailor  Oleson  had  not  shown  himself  a  keen  observer; 
and  the  passenger  would  not  be  likely  to  reach  any 
degree  of  familiarity  with  the  men  before  the  mast, 
anyhow.  Also,  the  English  assumption  may  have 
been  an  afterthought,  following  some  change  of 
purpose  necessitated  by  the  wreck.  Oleson  was  on 
the  transport,  and  could  be  questioned  as  to  the 
English  part  of  the  tale.  And  still  it  did  not  seem 
probable  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Pray  was  so  evi 
dently  sure  of  what  he  said  that  there  could  be  fraud 
in  the  thing.  Pray  was  not  likely  to  be  fooled 

But  there  was  doubt  enough  in  Wentworth's  mind, 
nevertheless,  to  impel  him  to  follow  on  the  trail  of 
this  Norman  Ainsworth  until  he  had  run  the  man 
down  and  settled  the  matter.  And  so  he  asked: 
"Is  Ainsworth  still  here — or  Captain  Graeme?" 

"Both,  I  believe,"  replied  the  newspaper  man.  "Of 
course  you  will  understand  that  my  interest  in  the 
party  ended  when  I  had  written  the  story  of  the 
wreck.  But  both  gentlemen  took  their  meals  here 
at  the  Grill.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  saw  them  both 
here  at  dinner  yesterday,  or  the  day  before  that. 
But  it  will  be  easy  to  find  out." 

He  looked  across  at  the  piratical  man  of  devilish 
cast  of  countenance  behind  the  little  counter. 

"George!  "he  called. 

The  man  came  across  the  room,  smiling  as  an 
amiable  Mephistopheles  might  have  smiled  upon 
any  one  or  two  of  a  billion  of  his  particular  friends. 


106  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"This  is  Mr.  Wentworth  of  San  Francisco,"  re 
marked  Pray.  "He  wants  to  find  out  something 
about  Ainsworth,  the  Halcyon  survivor,  you  know. 
This  is  George  Lycurgus,  Mr.  Wentworth.  He  is 
one  of  the  celebrities  of  Honolulu." 

Mephistopheles  bowed,  and  Wentworth  bowed. 
The  smile  of  the  piratical  gentleman  grew  even  more 
amiably  devilish. 

"Ainsworth?"  he  repeated.  "Oh,  the  English 
man!  The  man  who  wore  a  pongee  every  day, 
and  who  was  always  with  Captain  Graeme?" 

"That  is  the  man,"  agreed  Pray. 

"A  gentleman,  too!"  cried  Mephistopheles.  "With 
a  fine  taste  in  hock,  and  a  weakness  for  the  best  we 
had  in  cigars — not  that  a  palate  cultivated  to  good 
tobacco  is  weakness !  Was  he  a  friend  of  yours,  sir?  " 
with  a  warmer  smile  than  ever  toward  Wentworth,  as 
if  the  friend  of  a  man  with  a  fine  taste  in  wine  and 
cigars  was  himself  a  person  entitled  to  consideration. 
And  yet,  even  under  this  warmth,  Wentworth  seemed 
to  be  conscious  of  that  lurking  shadow  of  mockery. 

"I  am  not  sure,"  Wentworth  said,  replying  to  the 
question.  "He  may  be  a  friend  for  whom  I  am  seek 
ing,  or  it  may  be  that  I  am  on  the  wrong  track  al 
together.  I  am  most  anxious  to  know.  And  what 
is  wrong  with  him?" 

The  mockery  that  seemed  to  lurk  in  the  manner 
of  this  man  forced  the  question. 

"Wrong  with  him?"  echoed  Lycurgus.  "Why, 
nothing  in  the  world  so  far  as  I  know ! " 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  107 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Wentworth.  "Where 
can  I  find  him?" 

"Why,  that  is  too  bad!"  cried  Lycurgus.  "But 
he  is  gone!" 

"Gone!"  echoed  Pray.     "Where  is  he  gone?" 

"Captain  Graeme  and  Mr.  Ainsworth  both  took 
passage  on  the  Tenyu  Maru  last  night,"  replied 
Lycurgus.  "The  captain  was  booked  for  Hongkong. 
I  heard  Mr.  Ainsworth  say  that  he  thought  he  would 
go  to  Manila.  He  did  not  say  it  to  me,  however." 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Pray,  "I  was  aboard  the  Tenyu 
an  hour  before  she  sailed!  I  saw  neither  of  them  on 
board." 

"They  sailed  on  her,  all  the  same,"  said  Lycurgus. 
"They  were  stopping  at  my  place  out  Waikiki,  you 
know,  and  I  sent  their  luggage  aboard  from  there 
yesterday  afternoon.  They  had  dinner  here — up 
stairs — and  sat  late.  They  said  that  they  wanted 
to  get  away  quietly,  having  had  enough  of  publicity 
since  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon.  Captain  Graeme  had 
a  cable  from  his  owners,  I  believe." 

"That  accounts  for  it,"  said  Pray.  "They  prob 
ably  went  on  board  after  I  left  the  steamer." 

He  turned  to  Wentworth.  "I  am  sorry  that  you 
have  missed  your  man,"  he  said,  "if  this  is  the  Ains 
worth  you  seek." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure,"  answered  Wentworth. 
"My  friend  was  not  English,  but  that  may  be  a 
reason  the  more  for  me  to  see  this  man.  The  story 
of  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon  was  only  published  on 


108  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  day  we  left  San  Francisco.  Reading  it,  and  read 
ing  that — Ainsworth — had  left  the  Hancock  here, 
I  thought  to  look  him  up  if  he  were  still  in  town." 

Pray  looked  at  him  curiously.  There  was  a  story 
here  his  trained  intelligence  told  him  easily  enough. 
Whether  he  could  land  it  was  another  thing.  And,  in 
the  meantime,  there  was  always  a  commonplace. 

"You  are  going  through  on  the  Sherman?"  he 
asked,  politely.  "I  see  she  made  port  this  morning." 

"Yes,"  replied  Wentworth,  with  slow  deliberation. 
"I  am  going  through  on  the  Sherman" 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  that  at  the  mo 
ment  of  speaking.  It  was  the  only  thing  for  him  to 
do.  Whether  or  no,  he  must  run  this  Norman  Ains 
worth  to  earth.  The  doubt  in  his  mind  but  made 
that  the  more  imperative. 

"You  will  find  Ainsworth  In  Manila,  then,"  said 
Pray.  "The  Tenyu  will  beat  you  to  it,  of  course,  but 
it  is  likely  that  he  will  stick  around  for  a  week  or  two 
after  he  gets  there.'* 

"That  is  true,"  agreed  Wentworth. 

And  then  Pray,  who  was  accustomed  in  his  position 
to  meet  all  kinds  of  men  intent  upon  all  manner  of 
business,  pressed  Wentworth  to  have  something  more 
by  way  of  changing  the  breakfast  into  a  luncheon, 
and,  upon  refusal,  called  a  taxi  and  rode  down  to 
the  Navy  Wharf  with  him.  The  island  newspaper 
man  did  not  seek  any  confidence,  hoping,  it  might 
have  been,  to  get  a  line  on  Wentworth's  story  aboard 
the  Sherman,  and  Wentworth  did  not  volunteer 


THE  ENGLISHMAN  109 

any.  And  when  Pray  questioned  the  Quartermaster- 
Captain,  he  found  out  only  that  Wentworth  was  a 
young  San  Franciscan  out  to  see  the  world.  So, 
having  surer  matter  for  copy  in  hand,  Pray  let  the 
thing  drop.  Maybe  he  would  have  followed  the 
scent  harder  if  he  had  seen  the  cablegram  that  came 
that  day  to  a  certain  banker  in  Honolulu  from  a  big 
San  Francisco  banking  concern.  The  private  banker 
cabled  his  correspondent  that  Wentworth  had  made 
certain  inquiries,  and  gone  on  in  the  Sherman. 

Wentworth,  whom  Upson's  forethought  had  pro 
vided  for  just  such  an  emergency,  had  seen  the  Quar 
termaster-Captain  before  Pray  had,  and  had  arranged 
to  go  in  the  transport.  He  still  occupied  his  stateroom 
when  the  steamer  dropped  down  the  Channel  that 
night,  cleared  the  bell  buoy,  and  breasted  the  western 
sea  for  Guam.  He  had  cabled  Upson  of  his  purpose  to 
go  on,  as  he  had  agreed  to  do  on  leaving  San  Francisco. 

It  was  early  on  the  second  morning  out  from 
Honolulu,  and  the  Sherman  was  making  the  only 
ripple  hi  that  blue  sea  for  a  thousand  miles,  when  he 
went  forward  and  found  the  sailor,  Oleson,  polishing 
some  bits  of  brass  work  about  the  forward  rail. 

"Oleson,"  Wentworth  asked,  in  a  low  tone,  stop 
ping  close  to  the  sailor  as  he  worked,  "was  this 
Ainsworth,  the  passenger  on  the  Halcyon,  an  English 
man?" 

"Why,  no,  sir,"  replied  the  sailor,  looking  up  from 
his  work  in  some  surprise.  "I  never  thought  he  was. 
He  seemed  to  be  an  American,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XI 

BEING   A  LETTER  FROM   MR.  FREDERICK  DENT   UPSON 
TO  MR.  JOHN  WENTWORTH,  WRITTEN  TO  THE  CITY  OF 
MANILA 

MY  DEAR  WENTWORTH: — Your  sudden  departure 
on  the  Sherman  caused  something  of  a  flutter  in  the 
Pine  Street  dove  cote.  And,  by  the  same  token, 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  you  are  on  the  right 
track.  Stringham  put  me  wise  to  it.  The  incident 
took  place  on  the  very  day  that  the  Sherman  sailed- — 
which  shows  a  very  marked  degree  of  vigilance 
indeed,  and  may  indicate  an  interest  more  than 
passing  in  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon — but  I  did  not 
see  Stringham  until  nearly  a  week  afterward;  and 
then  the  thing  came  out  casually.  It  was  this  way: 
I  met  Stringham  in  the  St.  Francis  Grill,  and  had  a 
drink  with  him,  and  in  the  course  of  the  talk  he  asked 
me  what  had  become  of  you. 

I  knew  that  you  had  not  told  them  at  the  office 
where  you  were  going,  although  it  was  likely  enough 
that  their  waterfront  man  would  find  out.  But 
Stringham  is  discreet,  and,  anyway,  there  was  no 
good  making  a  mystery  of  the  plain  fact  of  your 
sailing.  So  I  told  him  that  you  were  off  to  the  islands 

no 


LETTER  FROM  FREDERICK  UPSON     111 

on  the  Sherman,  and,  still  casually,  I  ended  my  re 
mark  with  a  query  as  thus : 

"Why?" 

"Why,"  replied  Stringham,  "I  find  an  interest 
in  the  movements  of  that  young  man  manifested 
in  certain  very  high  financial  quarters.  Mr.  William 
Chester — you  know  Chester,  of  Chester,  Wiley  & 
Chester — phoned  me  the  other  day  to  know  whether 
young  Wentworth  was  still  on  the  staff,  or  what  had 
become  of  him.  The  matter  being  out  of  my  line, 
I  referred  him  to  the  City  Room." 

I  did  not  press  the  thing  with  Stringham,  but  dis 
creet  inquiry  in  other  quarters  gave  me  the  date, 
and  the  news  that  Chester  got  the  information  he 
wanted.  And  it  may  be  accepted,  if  you  are  on  the 
right  track — and  the  incident  goes  to  show  that  you 
are — that  letters  calculated  to  thwart  you  went 
forward  on  the  Tenyu  Maru,  which  left  this  port 
two  days  after  you  did.  She  would  beat  the  Sherman 
into  Honolulu,  a  day  at  least.  And  the  Tenyu  carries 
mail,  although  she  carries  no  passengers  to  the  islands. 

If  I  had  found  this  out  soon  enough  I  would  have 
written  to  you  at  Honolulu  by  that  steamer.  It  was 
of  no  use  to  cable.  If  you  were  to  be  blocked — you 
would  find  it  out,  as  you  probably  did.  And  you 
would  go  on,  as  your  cablegram  informed  me  that 
you  certainly  did.  This  letter,  which  goes  by  the 
China's  mail,  will  meet  you  at  Manila  and  advise 
you  in  plenty  of  time. 

Comes  now  a  matter  of  even  more  importance 


112  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

than  Mr.  Chester's  anxiety  as  to  your  movements, 
although  the  two  things  fit  each  other.  I  have  got 
a  line,  old  man,  at  last.  If  I  am  in  the  right  upon 
it — and  I  am  at  least  morally  certain  that  I  am — it 
makes  it  more  important  than  ever  that  you  should 
find  Captain  Graeme,  late  of  the  Halcyon,  and  his 
passenger.  Indeed,  the  success  or  failure  of  your 
quest  in  the  Far  East  becomes  the  one  great  factor 
in  the  solution  of  the  problem  before  us. 

Allison,  you  must  know,  is  home  from  Paris,  got 
home  a  week  or  two  after  you  sailed.  He  came  to 
me  on  the  very  day  of  his  arrival.  He  was  in  a  state 
of  some  excitement,  which  is  unusual  with  him,  as 
you  know.  The  first  thing  he  asked  was  about  you. 
He  wanted  to  know  your  movements,  what  you  had 
been  doing,  and  all  about  it.  I  am  his  legal  adviser, 
you  know,  and  after  I  had  told  him  all  about  your 
concerns,  he  produced  to  me,  as  his  legal  adviser,  he 
said,  some  half-dozen  debentures  of  the  Market 
Street  Railway  Company,  which  he  had  picked  up  at 
the  office  of  his  broker  in  New  York.  Knowing  that 
Allison  has  a  fad  for  putting  his  money  into  local 
securities,  this  did  not  excite  me  to  more  than  a 
cursory  glance  at  the  bonds.  I  was  preparing  to 
put  them  into  a  safe  place  before  sending  them  to  the 
bank  for  him  when  he  called  my  attention  to  some 
endorsements  on  them. 

Man,  those  bonds  had  been  issued  to  William 
Chester!  They  had  been  endorsed  by  Chester  to 
one  Robert  Graeme.  They  had  been  sold  by 


LETTER  FROM  FREDERICK  UPSON     113 

Graeme  to  a  bank  in  Honolulu,  which  passed  them 
to  New  York  in  regular  course.  They  must  have 
gone  straight  east,  and  been  found  by  Allison  almost 
on  the  day  of  then*  arrival. 

But  that  is  not  all.  Like  all  the  world,  I  had  seen 
the  published  list  of  securities  reported  missing  when 
the  Bank  of  the  Pacific  failed.  Unlike  most  of  the 
world,  I  had  saved  a  copy  of  that  list.  So  had 
Allison.  He  called  my  attention  to  the  numbers  of 
these  bonds,  and  I  ran  for  my  copy  of  the  list.  These 
debentures  were  among  those  that  it  was  reported 
could  not  be  found  when  the  bank  closed  its  doors. 
They  had  been  listed  as  lost  by  William  Chester. 

Yet  here  they  were,  and  with  William  Chester's 
endorsement  to  the  captain  of  the  Halcyon  !  What 
had  William  Chester  to  do  with  the  captain  of  the 
Halcyon,  who  came  to  San  Francisco  only  to  pick  up 
a  passenger,  in  defiance  of  the  law?  Was  the  en 
dorsement  on  the  bonds  a  forgery — and,  if  so,  by 
whom  forged?  If  no  forgery  has  been  committed, 
if  William  Chester  passed  the  bonds  to  Robert 
Graeme  after  the  failure  of  the  Bank,  as  the  endorse 
ment  shows,  our  enemy  has  put  his  foot  in  the  trap. 
Clever,  cold,  calculating  as  we  know  him  to  be, 
Chester  has  shown  the  weakness  common  to  all  great 
criminals.  He  has  made  the  fatal  and  almost  in 
evitable  mistake  of  leaving  open  one  door  to  detec 
tion  while  thinking  he  has  closed  all  roads  behind 
him.  The  chance  was  about  one  in  a  million  that 
this  door  would  be  found  at  that.  How  could  any  one 


114  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

foresee  that  Graeme  would  dispose  of  the  debentures 
at  once;  and,  Graeme  disposing  of  them,  how  could 
any  one  then  foresee  that  Allison  would  happen  along 
and  buy  them?  Surely,  the  devil  has  served  his 
friend  a  scurvy  trick  in  this. 

So  much  the  better  for  us.  The  mistake  of  Ches 
ter  is  colossal,  like  the  miscalculations  of  Napoleon 
before  Waterloo.  You  will  see,  in  the  light  of  this 
development,  how  essential  to  victory  for  our  side  it 
is  that  you  should  find  Captain  Graeme — and  his 
passenger.  Never  mind  about  money.  We  will 
take  care  of  that  at  this  end.  Follow  your  men  to 
the  end  of  the  world.  And  you  will  probably  have 
Allison  to  help  you  by  the  time  you  get  this  letter. 
At  all  events,  he  is  going  out  to  Hongkong  in  the 
Korea,  and  will  join  you  from  there.  I  have  not 
tried  to  hold  him  back.  I  have  not  seen  him  so  keen 
on  anything  since  he  left  college — and  the  interest 
will  do  him  good. 

I  think  I  have  told  you  everything  there  is  to 
know  that  will  interest  you,  excepting  that  the  papers 
this  morning  announce  the  election  of  William 
Chester  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Bank  of  the  Pacific. 
It  was  done  at  a  directors'  meeting  yesterday. 
Somebody  has  been  made  to  come  across  sure.  I 
wonder  what  the  new  President  would  say,  in  the 
event  that  those  debenture  bonds  Allison  brought 
from  New  York  should  be  presented  for  negotiation? 
We  will  find  out,  too,  one  of  these  days — when  our 
battle  line  is  made. 


LETTER  FROM  FREDERICK  UPSON     115 

Oh,  yes;  and  there  is  talk,  in  high  political  quarters, 
of  sending  Harran  to  the  United  States  Senate. 
It  is  under  the  rose,  as  yet,  but  the  thing  will  break 
in  due  time.  "The  man  who  saved  the  financial 
situation  in  the  state,"  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  you  know. 

Well,  good-bye,  and  good  luck  to  you.  Allison  will 
give  any  details  I  have  omitted  or  overlooked  in 
this.  And  don't  either  of  you  hesitate  to  use  the 
cable,  if  it  becomes  necessary  to  tell  me  anything 
in  a  hurry. 

Faithfully  yours, 
FREDERICK  DENT  UPSON. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT   THE   END    OF  THE   WORLD 

AT)  having  followed  my  man  to  the  end  of 
the  world,"  said  Wentworth,  making  a  ges 
ture  with  both  hands,  as  one  who  politely  ad 
mits  an  opponent's  promise,  "I  suppose  that  it 
is  up  to  me  to  jump  off.  For  this  place  is  the  end  of 
the  world — if  it  is  not  Tophet." 

He  drummed  impatiently  with  Upson's  letter, 
which  had  fallen  folded  into  his  hands  after  perusal, 
on  the  side  of  his  wicker  steamer  chair  in  time  with 
the  shuffling  of  thousands  of  slippered  feet  along 
the  sun-baked  pavements  in  the  Tondo  Quarter  of 
Manila.  Looking  down  upon  the  strangely  dressed 
throng  out  there  in  the  glaring  sunshine  from  the 
shaded  verandah  of  the  Hotel  Oriente,  Wentworth 
wondered  in  vague  fashion  how  any  human  energy 
could  rise  to  activity  in  that  breathless  heat?  Over 
his  head  a  creaking  punkah  just  puddled  the  stag 
nant  air  of  the  verandah,  and  from  the  dark  of  his  room 
came  the  tiresome  buzzing  of  an  electric  fan  that 
could  no  more  than  send  a  lukewarm  eddy  as  far  as 
the  fluttering  ends  of  its  own  crepe  paper  streamers. 

Wentworth  had  been  in  Manila  just  one  day. 
That  letter  from  Fred  Upson  had  waited  for  him  at 

116 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  WORLD       117 

the  Hotel  Oriente  for  several  days  while  the  Sherman 
plowed  her  way  slowly  across  that  sea  of  summer 
calms  in  which  the  island  of  Guam  sleeps  between 
Honolulu  and  Cape  Angana. 

He  had  seen  the  bones  of  the  Halcyon  in  the  clear 
deeps  without  the  reefs  that  shelter  San  Luis  d'Apra 
from  the  strong  swell  of  the  Pacific,  a  native  taking 
him  across  from  the  transport  in  company  with 
McGreal  and  Oleson.  And  Oleson,  under  the  pouring 
of  the  tropic  rain  that  came  down  upon  the  waves  like 
the  running  of  a  river  from  the  upper  air,  had  gone 
over  the  story  of  the  wreck. 

The  stop  at  Guam  wras  to  no  other  profit  so  far 
as  his  quest  was  concerned.  The  naval  officers 
on  the  station  could  tell  little.  Neither  Captain 
Graeme  nor  his  passenger  had  gone  ashore  on  the 
island,  so  far  as  the  Governor-General  knew.  Cer 
tainly  neither  of  them  had  taken  the  trouble  to  call 
on  that  puissant  personage.  Taken  at  once  from 
the  water  on  board  the  Hancock,  which  left  for 
Honolulu  on  the  day  following  the  shipwreck,  their 
casting  away  had  been  to  the  islanders  an  incident 
as  fleeting  as  the  alighting  of  a  tropic  bird  in  passage. 

And  then  the  Sherman,  after  a  couple  of  days  in 
the  island  harbour,  put  out  across  the  Nero  Deep, 
rounded  the  northern  point  of  Luzon,  breasted  the 
usual  half  gale  in  the  China  Sea,  and,  in  the  early 
daylight  of  the  thirty-second  day  out  of  San  Fran 
cisco,  ran  under  the  shelter  of  the  sea  wall  that 
carries  the  waters  of  the  Pasig  out  into  the  bay  of 


118  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Manila,  and  dropped  her  anchor  squarely  in  front  of 
the  walled  city. 

Thence  at  once  in  a  native  banca,  Wentworth 
landed  in  front  of  the  old  Custom  House  in  the 
Binondo  Quarter,  and  turned  on  the  top  of  the  stone 
wall  holding  the  yellow  current  of  the  river  to  shake 
hands  with  McGreal,  who  had  come  ashore  on  some 
ship's  business  in  the  same  boat. 

"You  will  have  shore  leave  to-night?"  he  asked 
the  sailor,  at  the  same  time  making  a  motion  with 
one  hand  to  stop  a  passing  cochero. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  McGreal. 

"Look  me  up  at  the  Hotel  Oriente,"  said  Went 
worth.  "And  if  you  can  bring  Oleson,  so  much  the 
better." 

These  two,  in  the  voyage  across  the  Pacific,  he  had 
come  to  look  upon  as  enlisted  in  his  quest,  gaining 
much  comfort  in  his  talks  with  either  as  the  ship  fared 
on  across  the  still  seas.  He  relied  on  them  for  active 
help,  too,  now  that  he  had  reached  the  port  for  which 
the  men  he  sought  were  thought  to  be  bound.  And  if 
the  sailors  were  to  help  him,  of  course  it  was  needful 
to  have  a  consultation  with  them.  Their  investi 
gations  must  be  directed  to  those  parts  of  the  town 
which  their  eyes  could  reach,  and  his  own,  most 
likely,  could  not.  That  was  to  the  end  that  they 
might  see  intelligently.  The  more  ground  that 
could  be  covered,  the  better  was  the  chance  for 
success.  Moreover,  both  the  sailors  knew  Captain 
Graeme;  and  Wentworth  had  never  seen  him.  He 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  WORLD       119 

thought,  grimly,  that  he  would  be  likely  to  know 
Ains  worth. 

"  If  Oleson  gets  shore  leave,  we  will  both  be  there, 
sir,"  replied  McGreal.  "  I  will  come  myself,  any 
how." 

"So  long  until  then!"  said  Went  worth.  He 
stepped  into  the  waiting  carromata,  and  went  plung 
ing  away  at  a  furious  rate  toward  the  Hotel  Oriente, 
the  only  guest  place  of  which  he  knew  the  name  in 
that  thronged  city.  He  found  quarters  there,  a 
long,  low,  dark  room,  opening  out  into  a  verandah  with 
shutters  of  latticed  mother-of-pearl  shell,  and  sent 
to  the  transport  for  his  luggage.  Also,  he  found 
Upson's  letter  waiting  him.  He  read  the  letter  lying 
in  a  big  wicker  chair  out  in  the  verandah,  with  the 
noise  of  the  shuffling  of  countless  slippered  feet  and 
of  the  strange  cries  of  the  natives  chaffering  in  the 
Tondo  Market  floating  up  to  him.  He  felt,  as  he 
read,  that  helpless  loneliness  a  man  will  feel  who  sits 
amidst  a  throng  of  his  fellows,  all  strangers  to  him. 
He  could  have  shrieked  aloud,  but  the  momentary 
energy  of  that  madness  died  in  him.  For,  lonely 
as  he  was,  the  climate  had  him.  The  languor  of 
the  deadly  tropical  heat  was  wrapping  him  about 
as  a  miasmatic  garment,  endowed  with  the  quality 
of  paralyzing  that  which  it  touched. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  repeated  aloud,  still  tapping  the 
side  of  his  wicker  chair  with  the  letter,  "that  it  is  up 
to  me  to  jump  off!" 

He  knew  that  he  ought  to  be  in  action.     He  felt 


120  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  shadow  of  the  impulse.  Certainly  lying  on  his 
back  in  a  shaded  hotel  porch  was  never  the  way  to 
arrive  at  any  definite  achievement.  He  should  be 
out  making  inquiry  at  banks  or  consulates,  shipping 
offices  or  clubs,  for  Captain  Graeme;  striving,  some 
where  down  in  that  busy  crowd,  to  find  trace  of 
the  "Englishman"  Norman  Ainsworth.  There  were 
many  English  in  Manila.  If  the  Halcyon  survivor 
were  still  in  the  town,  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  get 
some  track  of  him.  Nothing  draws  an  Englishman 
in  an  outland  place  like  another  Englishman. 

But  Wentworth's  shadow  of  an  impulse  to  action  was 
not  strong  enough  to  stir  him.  It  needed  something 
from  the  outside.  The  cloak  of  paralysis  woven  in  that 
deadly  heat  was  wrapping  him  fold  on  fold. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  up  to  me  to  jump  off,"  he  said  to 
himself  aloud,  and  for  the  third  time.  "  I  have  come 
to  the  end  of  the  world.  Well,  then!  Which  way  to 
jump?  I  wish  Frank  Allison  were  here!" 

"And,  behold !     He  enters  at  the  word ! " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    MAN    AND    THE    HOUR 

ALISON  spoke  from  the  doorway  of  Went- 
worth's  room,  standing  a  cool  and  smiling 
figure  in  white  duck  against  the  darkened 
background  of  the  interior.  And  at  the  sight  of  him 
the  cloak  of  paralysis  that  had  been  wrapping  itself 
about  the  soul  of  Wentworth  dropped  away,  and  he 
leaped  to  meet  his  friend  with  all  the  native  energy  of 
his  race  alert  for  action. 

"  When  did  you  get  in,  old  man?"  he  cried.  "Gee! 
but  I'm  glad  to  see  you!"  He  was  shaking  both 
Allison's  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  it  seemed  that  he 
would  never  quit  shaking  them. 

"I  got  here  two  hours  ago,"  replied  Allison.  "I 
went  through  some  formalities  at  the  Custom  House, 
and  here  I  am.  It  was  more  than  you  had  to  submit 
to,  of  course,  but  a  skipper  does  not  get  past  those 
red-tape  fellows  as  easily  as  a  passenger." 

"A  skipper?"  echoed  Allison. 

"Surely!  A  man  is  permitted  to  skip  his  own 
yacht,  I  believe — although  it  is  a  privilege  I  would 
just  as  soon  forego  in  these  typhoon  latitudes. 
Beating  around  San  Francisco  Bay  is  a  different 
thing." 

121 


122  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  brought  the 
Sea  Spray  across  the  Pacific?"  cried  Went  worth. 

"Nothing  so  foolish.  I  made  my  escape  from 
Brooks  and  came  over  in  the  Korea.  But  I  found  a 
little  beauty  of  a  yacht  for  sale  cheap  in  Hongkong. 
Clyde  built!  Steel  hull!  Bronze  keel!  Designed 
by  Watson!  Schooner  rigged!  Eighty  feet  over  all! 
With  auxiliary  engines  and  tankage  for  one  thousand 
gallons  of  gas!  For  sale  cheap,  by  a  gentleman  who 
is  unexpectedly  called  home  by  reason  of  important 
private  affairs!  Rated  Al  at  Lloyd's!  Doesn't 
that  sound  like  an  advertisement  from  a  real,  live  Eng 
lish  newspaper  published  in  Asia?  Well,  the  Lurline 
is  a  beauty,  my  boy,  with  comfortable  cabins,  and  a 
turn  of  speed  that  really  surprised  me,  considering 
that  she  is  English  built.  More  than  that,  she  is  pro 
visioned  for  a  cruise  around  the  world.  I  took  ac 
count  of  the  stores,  running  down  here — and  that  was 
a  labour,  without  a  cabin  steward.  My  fellow  left  at 
Hongkong.  The  stores  are  English,  and  so  of  the 
best.  And  if  the  men  we  seek  have  gone  to  the  end 
of  the  world  and  stepped  off  why  we  can  float  down 
into  the  abyss  more  comfortably  with  a  good  ship  un 
der  us  than  in  any  other  possible  way." 

"In  a  search  among  islands  we  would  have  to  have 
a  boat,  too,"  said  Wentworth.  "  The  passages  would 
be  wet,  inevitably." 

"That  being  the  nature  of  island  channels,"  agreed 
Allison,  politely. 

"And  of  course,"  went  on  Wentworth,  getting  back 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOUR          123 

to  the  serious  side  of  his  affairs,  "if  the  men  are  still 
in  Manila  we  could  go  home  in  the  Lurline — and 
take  one  of  them  with  us,  if  he  is  the  man  we  want." 

"I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  he  is  the  man  we 
want,"  said  Allison.  "But  he  is  not  in  Manila." 

"How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"Why,  we  are  here!"  replied  Allison.  "Your 
friends  in  San  Francisco  have  already  been  in  com 
munication  with  the  men,  knowing  that  you  were  on 
the  way.  Did  you  suppose  that  the  departure  of  Cap 
tain  Graeme  and  his  passenger  from  Honolulu  on  the 
day  before  you  got  there  was  a  coincidence?  I 
passed  through  Honolulu  myself,  you  know.  A  cable 
gram  from  San  Francisco  would  have  sent  them  out 
of  there  in  a  hurry — and  it  did.  Captain  Graeme 
received  the  cable." 

"Why,  Lycurgus  told  me  that!"  exclaimed  Went- 
worth,  his  mind  going  back  to  the  island,  and  to  his 
meeting  with  the  proprietor  of  the  Union  Grill. 

"Sure  he  did!"  cried  Allison.  "He  told  me  the 
same  thing,  incidentally,  when  I  asked  about  you." 

"And  did  he  tell  you  that  the  Halcyon's  passenger 
was  an  Englishman?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"An  Englishman!  Why,  no.  But  I  did  not  ask 
him  about  the  passenger.  My  inquiry  was  as  to  you 
only — and  I  purposely  made  that  casual." 

"The  Halcyon's  passenger,"  said  Wentworth, 
speaking  very  slowly,  "according  to  all  the  infor 
mation  I  could  get  in  Honolulu,  was  an  Englishman. 
An  Englishman  of  the  English!  He  was  assert- 


124  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

ively,  and  if  not  offensively,  at  least  amusingly,  Eng 
lish.  It  was  the  most  noticeable  thing  about  him. 
Even  in  Honolulu,  where  they  are  relatively  common, 
it  was  noted,  and,  I  gathered,  would  have  been,  even 
if  he  had  not  always  and  insistently  asserted  the  fact 
of  his  nationality." 

"Why,  then,"  said  Allison,  ruefully,  "he  cannot 
be  our  man!" 

"But,"  went  on  Wentworth,  "in  spite  of  this  very 
notable  and  noticeable  Anglicism,  the  sailor  Oleson 
did  not  observe  it  while  he  was  aboard  ship  with  the 
man.  The  sailor  thought  his  shipmate  was  an 
American.  Maybe  it  did  not  occur  to  Ains worth 
to  assert  his  nationality  sooner." 

"The  devil!"  cried  Allison.    "Then  you  think— 

"Nothing,  my  son!  If  Norman  Ainsworth  is  an 
Englishman,  he  is  likely  to  be  in  Manila.  If  he  is 
only  assuming  to  be  English,  then  it  is  my  view  that 
you  would  better  begin  to  get  the  Lurline  ready  for 
sea." 

"Which  will  not  take  a  day's  time,"  said  Allison. 

"So  much  the  better,"  replied  Wentworth.  "If  he 
is  gone,  we  must  follow  on.  Of  course,  if  it  conies 
to  that,  an  Englishman  could  go  away  from  Manila, 
too,  but  we  must  still  follow  on." 

"Right  you  are!"  cried  Allison.  "And  now  to 
find  out!  An  Englishman  in  Manila — 

"Would  have  his  name  put  up,  first  rattle  out  of  the 
box,  at  the  English  Club,"  interrupted  Wentworth. 
"Let  us  call  a  carromata  and  go  down  at  once  to 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOUR          125 

the  Hongkong  and  Shanghai  Bank.  I  have  to  de 
posit  my  letter  of  credit,  and  so  have  you.  The 
cashier  will  be  a  big  man  in  the  club  and  he  will  give 
us  a  line." 

It  was  really  astonishing,  once  Wentworth  shook 
off  the  lassitude  of  the  country  with  the  coming  of 
his  friend,  how  quick  he  was  to  spring  into  action. 
Within  ten  minutes  after  the  appearance  of  Allison 
at  the  Hotel  Oriente  the  friends  were  inside  a  closed 
caliso,  tearing  through  the  narrow  streets  and  around 
the  sharp  corners  in  the  Binondo  Quarter  at  a  gait 
that  perilled  the  life  of  every  passer  in  the  roadway. 

"These  cocheros  missed  their  destiny  in  not  being 
born  auto  speed  maniacs,"  said  Allison,  as  their  driv 
er  drew  up  his  panting  pony  in  front  of  the  bank. 

"Think  of  having  a  racer  in  these  narrow  streets, 
without  a  sidewalk  to  give  a  pedestrian  any  chance 
at  all — and  a  Filipino  devil  grinning  at  the  wheel!" 

They  stepped  into  the  bank,  and^another  closed 
caliso,  which  had  followed  them  fr^m^the  hotel  at 
speed,  drew  up  to  the  door.  The  man  who  got  out 
of  it  descended  slowly,  looking  first  to  make  sure 
that  the  two  friends  had  gone  in.  This  man  had  an 
air  of  furtive  jauntiness  about  him,  as  if  a  rat  were  to 
turn  dude.  And  he  was  a  little,  sallow,  smoothly 
shaven  man  with  a  subtle  something  about  his  car 
riage,  or  his  manner,  or  his  face  expressive  of  the  deep 
and  old,  old  craft  of  Asia. 

More,  this  little  furtive  dandy  of  a  man  had 
taken  a  room  at  the  Hotel  Oriente  the  day  before, 


126  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

after  spending  some  hours  of  the  morning  lounging 
about  the  Custom  House — a  room  adjoining  that  occu 
pied  by  Wentworth.  And  that  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  a  den  and  a  family  in  a  hut  in  a  nipa  row  in 
the  outskirts  of  the  Quarter  of  Sampaloc.  In  that 
quarter  he  was  respectfully  spoken  of  by  the  neigh 
bours  as  the  Senor  Don  Miguel  di  Sousa,  and  known 
to  have  influence  in  quarters  which  the  neighbourhood 
regarded  with  some  awe.  He  enjoyed  considera 
tion  there,  likewise,  as  the  proud  father  of  as  promis 
ing  a  litter  of  young  rats  as  was  to  be  found  in  any 
nest  in  the  quarter;  and,  what  was  a  matter  of 
greater  personal  pride  to  him,  as  the  owner  of  a  red 
game  cock  which,  at  three  years  old,  had  never  been 
whipped. 

The  dark  little  man  slipped  into  the  bank  imme 
diately  behind  the  two  Americans.  He  was  very  close 
to  the  cashier's  desk  when  that  obliging  young  Eng 
lishman  said  that  he  himself  had  put  up  Norman 
Ainsworth  and  Captain  Graeme  at  the  club  at  Malate 
a  week  before.  They  had  done  some  business  with 
the  bank.  And  they  had  taken  a  house  at  32  Calle 
San  Pedro,  in  the  Quarter  of  Guiapo.  Mr.  Ains 
worth  was  an  Englishman,  of  course. 

"And  he  need  not  have  kept  on  asserting  it  all  the 
time,  either,"  said  the  cashier,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

It  was  the  same  kind  of  thing  Wentworth  had  met 
at  Honolulu,  and  he  looked  at  Allison. 

"Are  the  gentlemen  here  now?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  no,"  replied  the  cashier.     "  Captain  Graeme 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOUR          127 

received  cabled  orders  from  his  people  in  London 
to  take  over  the  command  of  the  Neried,  of  the  same 
line  as  the  Halcyon,  which  had  limped  into  port  from 
the  Archipelago  a  week  or  two  earlier.  Her  cap 
tain  passed  out  down  Iloilo  way.  Black  cholera! 
Mr.  Ainsworth  told  me  at  the  club  he  would  go  with 
his  friend.  They  sailed  three  days  ago." 

"Do  you  know  for  what  port?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"I  did  not  inquire.  But  they  would  know  over 
at  the  Consulate,"  replied  the  cashier.  "I  will  give 
you  a  note  to  the  Consul,  if  you  like." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Wentworth.  "The 
Neried  belonged  to  the  same  people  as  the  Halcyon, 
you  say?" 

"They  have  a  lot  of  those  tramp  freighters, 
Clarke,  Wyse  &  Compton,  of  London,"  replied  the 
cashier. 

He  penned  the  note  of  introduction  to  the  British 
Consul  as  he  spoke  and  called  a  Chinese  boy  to  show 
the  gentlemen  the  way  to  the  Consulate.  It  was 
but  a  few  steps,  just  around  the  corner.  And  the 
Consul  was  most  obliging.  A  clerk  found,  very 
quickly,  that  the  Neried  had  cleared  for  Iloilo,  in 
ballast,  to  get  a  cargo  of  hemp  for  Nagasaki. 

"You  can  cable  to  see  if  she  is  still  at  Iloilo,"  said 
the  Consul.  "She  may  be  clear  away  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world  in  a  couple  of  months.  If  you  want 
to  catch  her,  I  should  say  the  surest  way  would  be  to 
head  her  off  at  Nagasaki." 

Wentworth  and  Allison  thanked  the  official  for  his 


128  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

courtesy,  and  went  back  to  their  caliso,  which  they 
had  kept  waiting. 

"I  suppose  it  wouldn't  do  any  good  to  look  up  the 
address  in  the  Guiapo  Quarter?"  queried  Allison,  as 
they  went  whirling  back  toward  the  Hotel  Oriente. 

"Why,  it  might  be  wise  to  go  out  there  before  we 
leave,"  replied  Wentworth.  "We  may  get  some 
points.  But,  in  my  opinion,  the  first  thing  is  to  get 
the  Lurline  ready  for  sea.  And  we  should  cable  to 
Iloilo.  I  suppose  that  the  yacht  can  follow  any 
where  that  a  tramp  can  go?  " 

"Around  the  world,"  answered  Allison.  "But 
I  wish  I  had  a  sailing  master.  It  is  so  much  more 
comfortable  to  have  a  man  to  stand  your  watch." 

"Why  don't  you  get  my  friend  McGreal?" 

"  The  sailor-highwayman?  Could  he  sail  a  yacht?  " 
asked  Allison. 

"I  should  think  so." 

"  How  are  we  to  get  him  off  the  transport?  " 

"I  don't  suppose  he  would  have  any  sentiment 
about  holding  to  that  job  if  he  could  get  anything 
better.  You  have  only  to  offer  higher  pay.  And  it 
might  be  a  good  scheme  to  get  the  sailor  Oleson, 
too." 

"That  would  give  us  a  couple  of  men  we  could  de 
pend  on,  surely,"  said  Allison.  "That  is  rather  a 
desirable  thing  in  seas  on  whose  beaches  you  pick  up 
the  riff-raff  of  the  world.  I  haven't  seen  a  thing  out 
of  the  way  with  any  of  the  mixed  lot  I  have  but  I 
swear  to  you,  John,  that  I  wouldn't  bank  on  a  single 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOUR          129 

man  on  the  Lurline  not  being  safe  to  cut  my  throat 
and  turn  pirate  if  he  saw  his  profit  in  it. " 

"A  cheerful  crew!"  said  Wentworth.  "We  will 
get  the  two  men,  if  we  have  to  steal  them  from  Uncle 
Sam,  but  I  think  we  may  manage  it  without  that. 
Anyway,  they  are  both  due  here  to  see  me  to-night, 
and  we  will  find  out." 

Their  caliso  set  them  down  in  front  of  the  Hotel 
Oriente,  and  Allison  took  a  room  next  to  Wentworth's, 
the  two  being  thrown  into  a  suite  communicating  by 
way  of  the  front  verandah.  And,  on  the  other  side, 
the  dark  little  Eurasian,  crouching  behind  a  shutter 
whose  removal  would  have  made  the  suite  still 
larger,  listened  for  anything  that  might  be  let  drop. 
He  had  not,  unfortunately  for  the  cheese  and  bread  he 
was  expected  to  provide  for  that  nest  of  young  rats 
in  the  Quarter  of  Sampaloc,  been  able  to  worm  as 
much  as  he  would  have  liked  out  of  the  friend  of  his 
who  was  a  kind  of  under  clerk  in  the  British  Consu 
late.  Nor  could  he  know  what  talk  had  taken  place 
between  Wentworth  and  Allison  in  the  caliso  on  the 
way  to  the  hotel. 

Neither  was  he  aware  of  the  sending  of  a  cable 
gram  to  Iloilo  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon;  which 
cablegram  brought  an  answer  from  the  British  Con 
sular  officer  to  the  effect  that  the  Neried  had  loaded 
hemp  at  that  port  and  sailed  that  very  morning  for 
Nagasaki.  But  the  watcher  did  know  that  a  cable 
gram  was  received.  That  was  the  extent  of  his  finding 
on  the  afternoon  watch.  The  Mestizo  boy  who  de- 


130  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

livered  it  could  not  tell  him  where  it  came  from, 
and  dared  not  let  him  open  it,  even  in  return  for 
several  pieces  of  silver  offered. 

Still,  the  day  of  the  rat  had  not  been  altogether 
wasted.  Even  with  no  more  than  the  information 
that  he  had  gained,  Seiior  Don  Miguel  di  Sousa 
had  a  very  considerable  budget  to  carry  to  a  certain 
dark  office  up  one  flight  in  the  Escolta,  on  a  sign  be 
side  the  door  of  which  office  it  was  proclaimed,  in 
English,  Spanish,  Tagallog,  and  Chinese,  that  with 
in  was  the  place  of  business  of  Eric  Hale,  private  in 
quiry  agent. 

Being  a  man  of  experience  in  his  trade,  Eric  Hale 
sent  a  cable  in  cipher  to  San  Francisco  on  the  receipt 
of  Di  Sousa's  report;  and  that  produced  another 
sent  back  across  the  ocean  to  the  care  of  the 
steamer  Neried  at  Iloilo — to  be  repeated  to  Nagasaki. 
A  little  later  in  the  day  Eric  Hale  issued  certain  ex 
plicit  instructions  to  Sefior  Don  Miguel  di  Sousa. 
And  then  the  old  rat  crept  back  to  the  room  adjoin 
ing  Wentworth's,  in  the  Hotel  Oriente. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   FRIEND — AND    HIS    CONSCIENCE 

AID  because  the  Americans  in  the  verandah,  of 
the  Hotel  Oriente  did  not  think  to  lower  their 
voices  from  the  ordinary  conversational  tone 
Mr.  Miguel  di  Sousa  found,  that  evening,  that  the 
spy  who  waits  gains  many  things.  The  old  rat  only 
left  his  post  to  slip  out  to  the  family  nest  in  the  Quart 
er  of  Sampaloc  for  a  bite  of  fish  and  rice  while  the 
Americans  were  at  dinner  in  the  ordinary  of  the  hotel. 
He  was  on  watch  again  long  before  they  had  finished 
eating,  and  heard  them  come  back  to  the  verandah 
and  settle  themselves,  overlooking  the  night  bustle 
of  the  street,  for  their  after-dinner  cigars. 

"I  only  brought  up  the  subject  because  you  had 
not  asked  me  a  word  about  it,  and  because  I  wanted 
to  discharge  my  conscience,"  said  Allison,  after  a 
bit,  as  though  coming  back  to  a  matter  which  had 
been  in  their  table  talk. 

Silence  followed  for  a  moment,  and  then  Went- 
worth  said:  "How  do  you  <£mnect  your  conscience 
with  Margaret  Graeme?" 

The  name  caught  the  attention  of  the  rat  at  once. 
It  might  be,  of  course,  that  it  was  not  a  name  with 
which  he  would  ever  have  anything  to  do,  but  it 

131 


132  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

was  a  woman's  name;  and  in  women  there  are  in 
finite  capacities  for  complication.  Mr.  Di  Sousa  had 
been  in  the  spy  business  long  enough  to  know  some 
thing  of  its  possibilities. 

Wentworth,  apparently,  was  willing  to  let  the 
matter  of  Allison's  conscience  drop  when  that  gentle 
man  did  not  at  once  reply  to  his  question. 

"Where  was  the  good  of  letting  my  thoughts 
linger  on  Margaret?"  he  asked,  taking  up  another 
phase  of  the  subject.  "A  woman  may  dwell  in  a 
star.  No  man  can  draw  her  down  by  looking  at  her. 
You  left  her  in  San  Francisco,  I  suppose?  " 

"But  I  had  found  her  in  Paris,  and  again  in  San 
Francisco.  She  had  crossed  from  Boulogne  while  I 
was  coming  over  from  Southampton.  The  old 
dragon — the  aunt,  you  know,  Mrs.  Pen  worthy — 
was  with  her  both  times." 

"Bad  for  you!"  and  Wentworth  smiled.  "I 
had  my  bout  with  Mrs.  Penworthy  at  the  Coronado. 
Being  unexceptionally  rich  at  the  moment,  I  finally 
got  past  the  guard." 

"She  thinks  that  you  are  the  greatest  man  on 
earth!"  exclaimed  Allison. 

"Mrs.  Penworthy?  That  is  strange,  and  not  in 
character.  But  you  should  be  able  to  disarm  her, 
old  man.  You  are  richer  than  I  ever  was." 

"It  would  do  no  good,"  replied  Allison,  just  a 
shade  gloomily. 

"You  are  young,  passably  good  looking,  have 
plenty  of  money,  and  good  table  manners,  do  not 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE     133 

make  any  bad  breaks  in  dress.  At  what  point  do 
you  fail?"  asked  Wentworth. 

There  was  a  tinge  of  bitterness  in  the  grim  humour 
of  that.  Allison  brought  the  talk  to  the  sanity  of 
earnestness. 

"Margaret  Graeme  loves  you,  John  Wentworth," 
he  said. 

"Nonsense!" 

"It  is  the  truth." 

"Man!"  cried  Wentworth,  "I  am  hopelessly  out 
of  her  class.  That  I — that  I — that  she  was  more  to 
me  than  any  other  woman  can  ever  be,  I  grant  you." 

It  was  difficult  for  him  to  find  words,  but  he  went 
on  after  a  bit:  "If  poverty  had  not  come;  and,  well, 
dishonour,  I  would  have  tried  for  my  happiness  as 
a  man  may.  I  do  not  mind  admitting  that  to  you. 
But  not  now !  Not  now ! " 

"Nevertheless,  and  in  spite  of  everything,  I  tell 
you  that  Margaret  Graeme  loves  you,  John." 

"How  do  you  know  that  she  does?" 

It  was  Allison's  turn  to  hesitate  at  that.  "Maybe 
I  have  tried!"  he  said,  at  last,  speaking  very  slowly, 
and  looking  down  into  the  street.  "It  may  be  that 
that  is  a  part  of  the  burden  on  my  conscience.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  more  probity  than  another,  John. 
I  had  the  right  to  try." 

"God  knows  you  had!"  And  then,  more  slowly, 
and  in  a  lowered  tone:  "And  it  is  your  right  to 
try  again." 

"It  would  do  me  no  good,"  said  Allison.     "When 


134  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

a  woman  talks  of  one  man  to  another;  when  she  is 
interested  in  the  movements  of  a  man  only  so  far 
as  they  concern  another  man,  when  her  eyes  fill 
at  the  thought  of  one  man's  absence,  and  silence — 
well,  the  thing  is  sufficiently  obvious.  Love  stricken 
to  its  death  is  no  longer  blind,  John." 

"Margaret  Graeme  would  never  wear  her  heart 
on  her  sleeve!"  cried  Wentworth,  with  a  manner  of 
resentment  that  drew  a  smile  in  the  dark  from  his 
friend. 

"Not  where  the  world  might  see,"  agreed  Allison. 
"I  should  say  she  would  be  much  more  likely  to  do 
things  to  gain  her  heart's  desire.  She  is  a  young 
woman  of  action,  most  emphatically.  But  I  was 
your  friend,  remember.  Through  me  lay  the  only 
road  she  knew  to  any  knowledge  of  your  movements." 

"And  you  told  her?" 

"That  is  the  other  part  of  the  burden  on  my 
conscience,  John.  I  did." 

"Everything?" 

"She  seemed  greatly  interested — and,  well,  I  sup 
pose  that  she  got  the  whole  thing  out  of  me." 

"That  I  sailed  on  the  Sherman,  and  the  purpose 
of  the  trip,  and  all?" 

"  That  would  be  about  the  size  of  it,  old  man ! " 

"That  was  thoughtful  of  you,"  said  Wentworth, 
with  just  the  least  fine  shade  of  sarcasm.  "I  hope 
that  she  may  prove  more  discreet  than  you  have 
been." 

"She  will  never  tell  anything  that  will  hurt  you, 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE     135 

John,"  said  Allison,  eagerly.  "Be  sure  of  that! 
But  what  could  she  tell?  Your  intimate  enemies 
in  San  Francisco  do  not  seem  to  have  any  trouble  in 
following  your  movements,  if  it  comes  to  that." 

"I  have  nothing  to  hide — yet ! "  said  Wentworth. 

"Surely  you  have  nothing!  And  what  did  it 
matter  if  she  knew?  But  have  I  told  you  that 
Margaret  Graeme  seemed  strangely  familiar  with 
the  story  of  the  wreck  of  the  Halcyon?  I  do  not 
believe  that  women  read  the  shipping  news  at  all, 
as  a  rule.  And  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  the 
captain  of  the  Halcyon  is  of  the  same  name?" 

"Often,"  replied  Wentworth,  answering  the  last 
question.  "But  what  of  that?  It  is  a  common 
name  enough,  and  I  have  never,  in  my  thoughts, 
coupled  the  two  together.  This  Captain  Robert 
Graeme,  coming  out  of  the  Clyde  and  spelling  his 
name  that  way,  is  most  likely  Scotch." 

"As  Margaret  is  by  birth.  Didn't  you  know 
that?" 

"I  know  little  of  her  family." 

"It  is  the  fact.  Old  Donald  Graeme,  her  father, 
quit  the  sea  to  find  the  Yellow  Aster  mine,  and  sold 
it  for  a  million.  He  went  back  to  Scotland  for  a  wife. 
Both  the  children  were  born  in  Edinborough.  The  old 
man  came  back  to  San  Francisco  when  his  wife  died, 
and  devoted  himself  to  the  making  of  more  millions." 

"  Were  there  two  children?  "  asked  Wentworth.  " I 
thought  that  Margaret  came  in  for  all  the  millions. " 

"So  she  did.    But  there  were  two  children.     The 


136  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

boy  was  much  older,  and  he  went  wild  and  ran  away. 
That  was  before  you  and  I  had  begun  to  take  much 
notice.  But  the  brother  was  eight  to  ten  years  senior 
to  Margaret.  My  mother  told  me  about  the  Graemes 
a  long  time  ago,  when  Margaret  and  I  went  to  the 
Denman  Primary  together.  I  was  in  love  with  her 
even  when  I  was  in  knickers.  The  families  were 
neighbours  on  Nob  Hill,  you  know." 

"And  the  brother?     Why  did  he  leave  home?" 

"Some  difficulty  about  government.  Old  Donald 
was  a  tartar,  and  maybe  the  boy  was  like  him." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  brother's  name?" 

"If  I  ever  did,  I  have  forgotten  it." 

"I  wonder —  "  began  Went  worth,  and  then  broke 
off.  "Harran  was  Margaret's  guardian,  wasn't  he?" 

"Only  a  trustee,"  replied  Allison.  "She  came  into 
the  money  a  year  or  two  ago." 

"But  Harran  would  have  known  the  family  his 
tory.  And  he  may  have  kept  track  of  the  boy." 

"It  is  probable  enough,"  agreed  Allison.  "At  all 
events,  it  is  sufficiently  remarkable  that  Margaret 
should  read  the  shipping  news  in  the  papers.  And 
her  interest  in  the  Halcyon  story  is  at  least  notice 
able." 

"There  are  strange  things  under  the  sun,"  said 
Wentworth,  musingly,  but  more  to  himself  than  to 
his  friend.  Then,  turning  to  Allison:  "You  say 
that  the  elder  Graeme  was  a  sailor?" 

"He  was  Scotch.  There  was  probably  seafaring 
blood  in  the  family  for  a  hundred  years.  But  here 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE     137 

are  our  sailor  friends,  I  believe.  I  suppose  that  it  is 
settled  that  we  shape  a  course  for  Nagasaki?" 

"Yes." 

A  Chinese  boy,  in  a  long,  white  gown  knocked 
at  and  opened  the  door  of  Wentworth's  room,  and 
the  two  sailors  from  the  transport,  hats  in  hand, 
came  forward  slowly  on  to  the  verandah.  Oleson  was 
knuckling  his  forehead  as  he  came  stumbling  along 
through  the  half  darkness.  A  torrential  rush  of 
tropic  rain  roared  across  the  light  of  the  stars  at  the 
same  instant,  driving  the  people  from  the  street 
below  into  temporary  shelter,  and  drowning  the 
greetings  of  the  party  with  its  thunder  on  the  cor 
rugated  iron  roof  of  the  hotel.  The  houseboy  pushed 
out  two  more  reclining  chairs  from  the  room,  and 
McGreal  and  the  sailor  sat  down,  the  last  named 
just  touching  the  edge  of  the  cane  seat,  and  holding 
his  white  duck  hat  in  his  hand  as  he  sat.  Also, 
they  both  took  cigars  when  the  boy  passed  them  at 
a  sign  from  Wentworth.  Then  the  boy  went  out. 

"When  did  you  come  ashore?"  asked  Wentworth, 
by  way  of  putting  the  two  at  ease,  as  soon  as  they 
were  seated,  and  the  roar  of  the  rain  had  passed,  and 
after  he  had  presented  Allison  in  form  to  the  visitors. 

"We  landed  half  an  hour  ago,  sir,  at  the  Custom 
House,"  replied  McGreal,  "and  took  a  carromata 
on.  She  was  unloading,  sir,  and  we  could  not  get 
away  from  the  ship  any  earlier." 

"Then,  of  course,  you  have  seen  nothing  of  Captain 
Graeme — or  his  passenger?"  said  Wentworth. 


138  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"We  have  been  nowhere,  sir,"  replied  McGreal. 
"But  we  have  twenty -four  hours'  leave,  the  both 
of  us,  and  we'll  scour  this  town  to-night  and  to 
morrow,  sir." 

"It  will  not  be  necessary,"  said  Wentworth,  to 
this,  "although  I'm  obliged  to  you  just  the  same. 
The  men  are  not  here." 

"Not  here,  sir?"  exclaimed  McGreal. 

"We  got  track  of  them  to-day,  Mr.  Allison  and  I. 
They  went  to  I'oilo  in  the  Neried" 

"Why,  that  is  one  of  Clarke,  Wyse  &  Compton's 
boats,  sir,"  cried  McGreal. 

"Just  so.  Captain  Graeme  is  in  command  of 
her.  Ever  been  in  her?" 

"I  made  the  run  to  Good  Hope  as  a  'prentice  in 
her,"  said  McGreal.  "That  was  my  first  service 
with  the  company." 

"Well,  you  may  see  her  again.  We  propose  to 
go  after  her  in  Mr.  Allison's  yacht." 

"Tolloilo,  sir?" 

"To  Nagasaki.  She  has  already  sailed  for  that 
port." 

"You  say  J  may  see  her,  sir,"  went  on  McGreal; 
"but  I  am  signed  on  for  the  whole  voyage  of  the 
Sherman." 

"  Can't  you  get  a  discharge?  " 

"I  might  be  able  to  get  it,  sir.     It  is  not  usual." 

"What  will  it  be  worth  to  take  it?"  asked  Allison. 

"That  is  a  different  matter,"  replied  McGreal. 

"And  Oleson,  here,  too?"  went  on  Allison,  eagerly. 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE 

"Now,  look  here,  my  men!  I  have  just  bought  a 
yacht  in  Hongkong.  I  can  sail  her  myself,  but  I 
prefer  a  sailing  master,  and  I  would  like  to  pick  up  a 
sailor  or  two  in  this  port,  if  I  can  get  men  that  I  can 
depend  upon  in  a  pinch." 

"I  am  listening,  sir,"  said  McGreal. 

"Well,  if  you  can  get  your  discharge  from  the 
Sherman — or  can  get  away  from  her — I  will  give  you 
$150  in  gold  a  month  to  navigate  the  Lurline  under 
my  direction.  You  know  navigation?" 

"I  took  the  examination  in  San  Francisco,  sir. 
I  have  my  master's  papers." 

"This  offer  will  be  for  one  year,  say.  It  may  not 
take  that  long  for  what  we  have  to  do,  but  you  sign 
on  for  the  cruise,  and  if  we  reach  port  in  less  than  a 
year,  your  wages  will  run  on  for  that  time,  anyhow. 
If  you  suit  me,  it  may  be  even  longer." 

"It  is  a  handsome  offer,  sir,"  said  McGreal. 
"Very  handsome." 

"Do  you  think  that  you  can  make  your  discharge 
from  the  transport  upon  it?"  asked  Allison. 

"Well,  sir,  by  giving  up  the  couple  of  months  now 
due  me  it  may  be  arranged." 

"You  will  .not  lose  anything  by  that,"  said  Allison. 
"And  about  the  man  here,  Oleson?  " 

"Why,  that  will  be  harder,"  replied  McGreal. 
"I  am  an  officer,  when  all  is  told.  If  I  force  it,  I 
will  be  allowed  to  go.  A  man  before  the  mast  is  in 
harder  case." 

"It  means  $100  to  him,  and  another  $100  to  you, 


140  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

if  he  is  in  the  Lurline  when  she  leaves  here,"  said 
Allison.  "And  I  will  pay  him  $50  a  month  in  gold.* 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Arvad?"  asked 
McGreal. 

"I  can  do  a  good  deal  for  $100  advance,  and  fifty 
a  month  in  gold,"  said  the  sailor,  with  a  grin  that  was 
lost  in  the  dark. 

"Then  I'll  expect  you,"  said  Allison. 

"Is  the  yacht  here,  sir?  "  asked  McGreal. 

"I  sailed  her  down  from  Hongkong  myself,"  re 
plied  Allison.  "She  lies  behind  the  seawall,  about 
200  yards  outside  the  Sherman." 

"Which  one  of  them  is  it,  sir?"  asked  Oleson. 

"Which  one  of  them?"  repeated  Allison.  "The 
Lurline  was  the  only  yacht  in  sight  when  she  dropped 
her  hook  in  the  mud  this  morning.  She  is  a  schooner 
yacht,  painted  white,  with  a  gold  figurehead.  And 
the  prettiest  lines  you  ever  saw  in  a  yacht  built 
outside  of  America." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Oleson,  knuckling  his  forehead, 
"there  is  another  of  them  lying  twenty  yards  to 
seaward  of  her,  only  this  one  is  painted  green,  and 
the  figurehead  of  her  is  silver,  sir." 

Allison  turned  to  McGreal.  "Did  you  see  the 
other  one?"  he  asked. 

"I  saw  the  two  of  them  lying  out  there  at  dusk, 
sir,"  replied  the  future  sailing  master  of  the  Lurline. 
"They  looked  very  chummy  and  comfortable  when 
we  left  the  transport.  Two  of  a  kind.  The  white 
yacht  is  a  beauty;  but  the  green  one  seems  a  bit  more 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE     141 

fine  and  graceful  in  her  lines,  and  the  spars  higher.  I 
should  say  that  she  would  be  an  American-built  boat." 

"The  Lurline  was  built  on  the  Clyde,"  said  Allison. 

"They  don't  build  any  better  boats  than  at  those 
Clyde  yards,"  said  McGreal,  with  a  polite  manner 
of  conviction. 

"Anyway,"  went  on  Allison,  "my  yacht  is  the 
white  one.  And  if  you  care  to  take  command  of  her, 
Captain  McGreal,  it  will  be  well  for  me  to  take  you  on 
board  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Will  it  do  any 
good  for  us  to  see  the  transport  people  in  your 
behalf?" 

"I  do  not  think  so,  sir.  And  it  might  make  trouble 
for  you.  I  will  meet  you  at  the  Custom  House  in 
the  morning,  and  we  can  go  out  to  the  yacht  in  a  shore 
boat.  Then  I  will  take  her  boat  and  go  aboard  for 
my  dunnage.  If  there  is  to  be  any  row  with  the  old 
man,  I'll  face  it  alone,  sir.  But  you'll  find  me  in 
charge  of  the  Lurline  after  to-morrow." 

"The  captain  of  the  Sherman  will  storm,  I  sup 
pose?"  said  Allison. 

"Like  enough,  sir.     But  the  storm  will  pass." 

"And  about  Oleson  here?" 

"Well,  sir;  it  may  be  just  as  well  for  you  not  to 
know  too  much  about  him.  Sailors  often  disappear 
ashore.  If  he  turns  up  again  in  the  fo'castle  of  your 
yacht,  that  will  not  be  your  lookout." 

"Very  well,"  said  Allison.     "I  leave  it  to  you." 

The  two  sailors  had  risen  to  their  feet,  and  Went- 
worth  said,  seeing  them  thus  prepared  to  go:  "I 


142  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

suppose  you  two  will  want  to  see  something  of  the 
town  to-night?" 

"Why,  sir,  if  you  gentlemen  don't  mind,"  replied 
McGreal.  "We  thought  we  would  go  down  to  the 
Alhambra  for  a  song  and  a  bottle  of  beer,  and  then, 
maybe,  run  around  town  for  a  bit." 

"You  would  better  arrange  to  come  back  and  stop 
here  to-night,"  suggested  Allison. 

"That's  as  may  be,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  smiling 
slightly.  "You  don't  either  of  you  gentlemen  think 
it  would  be  worth  while  to  have  a  look  about  here  for 
Captain  Graeme — or  his  passenger?" 

"Why,  no,"  replied  Wentworth.  "We  know  that 
they  sailed  from  Iloilo." 

"But  there  is  one  thing  that  I  would  like  to  have 
you  see  to,  Mr.  McGreal,  if  you  will,"  said  Allison. 
"The  cabin  steward  of  the  yacht  left  her  in  Hong 
kong,  and  I  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  get  another 
one  there.  If  you  can  find  me  a  good  China  boy  here, 
I  wish  you  would." 

"Why,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  "I  don't  take  kindly 
to  a  Chinaman  aboard  ship." 

"I  don't  stipulate  for  a  Chinese,"  smiled  Allison. 
"Any  likely  boy  who  can  do  the  work  will  answer." 

"It  shall  be  attended  to,"  replied  McGreal. 

And  it  was.  McGreal  and  the  sailor  Oleson  had 
hardly  got  their  beer  set  before  them  on  a  little 
table  in  the  Alhambra,  looking  out  on  the  moving 
lights  along  the  Pasig  River,  before  the  sailing  master 
of  the  Lurline  noticed  a  Eurasian  half  caste,  of  slight 


A  FRIEND— AND  HIS  CONSCIENCE     143 

build,  and  with  the  air  of  the  cabin  steward  in  every 
line  of  him,  from  his  natty  white  hat  to  his  white 
duck  trousers,  red  sash,  and  canvas  shoes,  sipping 
frozen  absinthe,  and  emitting  deep  sighs  the  while, 
at  the  very  next  table  to  them.  From  his  sighing, 
and  the  general  air  of  depression  upon  him,  he  was 
evidently  a  cabin  steward  most  decidedly  down  on  his 
luck.  McGreal  watched  him  for  a  moment,  caught 
his  eye,  and  beckoned  to  him,  after  the  manner  of 
the  quarterdeck.  And  the  doleful  one  came.  He 
would  have  been  no  cabin  steward,  else. 

"Got  a  ship,  mate?"  asked  McGreal,  patronizingly. 

"Not  any,  sar,"  replied  the  Eurasian.  "And  I 
am  on  this  beach  many  weeks.  We  got  laid  off  at 
the  end  of  charter  here,  sar;  and  nothing  I  can  find 
to  do  it  any  more.  Madre  di  Dios!  I  can  find  no 
ship,  it  is  two  or  t'ree  days  and  I  can  not  eat,  sar!" 

"Well,  I'll  fix  you,"  cried  McGreal.  "Finest 
yacht  in  these  waters.  Ever  sail  in  a  yacht?  " 

"Sar,  many  time!" 

"We  lost  our  cabin  boy  at  Hongkong.  Didn't 
know  when  he  had  a  good  thing!  Forty  dollars, 
gold,  a  month,  and  twenty  advance  if  you'll  see  me 
at  the  Custom  House  at  ten  to-morrow  morning." 

"I  will  be  there,  sar!"  said  the  Eurasian,  grate 
fully.  "I  will  be  there.  Madre  di  Dios!  Never 
be  to  fear  on  account  for  me,  sar!" 

So  Mr.  Miguel  di  Sousa,  making  a  late  report  at  the 
office  in  the  Escolta,  had  obeyed  orders,  and  secured  his 
berth  aboard  the  Lurline.  The  rat  will  find  the  ship. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   GREEN   YACHT 

MR.  MIGUEL  DI  SOUSA  squatted  beside  a 
very  small  camphor-wood  chest  set  on  the 
edge  of  the  sea  wall  just  in  front  of  the  Manila 
Custom  House,  a  figure  of  patience  in  the  midst  of 
the  hurry  and  bustle  of  the  quay  alongside  the  Pasig. 
He  held,  under  one  arm,  a  red  game  rooster,  and 
soothed  the  nervousness  of  the  bird  now  and  again 
by  a  gentle  touch  on  its  slim  and  shapely  head.  It 
was  well  enough,  in  the  way  of  duty,  to  separate  him 
self  by  the  width  of  the  city  from  this  passion  of  his 
life.  He  could  not  have  borne  separation  overseas. 
And  he  waited  because  it  was  not  for  him  to  be  late 
for  his  appointment  with  Captain  McGreal. 

Presently,  breaking  through  the  swarm  of  caribou 
carts  and  carromatas,  squat  Tagals,  and  naked,  shin 
ing  Chinese  coolies,  the  spy  saw  the  tall  form  of  Mc 
Greal  come  surging  on,  like  a  great  liner  that  plows  a 
way  amidst  many  lesser  craft  to  get  into  dock.  And, 
at  the  same  moment,  Allison  leaped  out  of  a  closed 
caliso  that  had  stopped  just  in  front  of  where  Mr.  Di 
Sousa  sat  beside  his  camphor-wood  chest. 

"We  are  both  on  time,  Captain  McGreal,"  said 
Allison,  shaking  hands  with  the  sailor. 

144 


THE  GREEN  Y4CHT  145 

"Yes,  sir;  and  here  is  the  new  cabin  steward  of  the 
Lurline" 

Di  Sousa  had  risen  quickly  as  the  two  came  up, 
and  now  touched  his  hat. 

"This  the  man?"  queried  Allison.  And  then,  to 
Di  Sousa:  "  What  are  you  doing  with  the  chicken? " 

"Sar! "  replied  Di  Sousa,  his  point  of  pride  touched 
at  once,  "it  is  el  Rio  Rey.  Never  yet  has  this 
bird  been  beaten." 

He  spoke  in  a  soft,  sibilant  voice,  and  with  an  ac 
cent  Allison  could  not  place — an  elusive,  musical  in 
tonation,  suggestive  at  once  of  the  tongue  of  the 
Latin  and  of  some  older  Asian  people. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Allison  next,  looking 
at  the  man  in  puzzled  fashion.  There  was  a  vague 
impression  that  he  had  seen  him  or  heard  his  voice 
before,  but  it  passed. 

"Miguel  di  Sousa,  sar!" 

"You  have  served  as  cabin  boy?" 

"Sar,  many  times,  in  many  ships." 

"You  are  Eurasian,  I  think?"  said  Allison. 

"I  am  born  in  Macao,  sar." 

"  I  thought  so.     What  ship  were  you  in  last?  " 

"Sar,  it  is  the  Monirose  Castle;  port  of  London. 
We  are  laid  off  on  this  beach  for  the  end  of  charter, 
sar." 

"Well,  I  guess  you'll  do,"  said  Allison,  "if  Cap 
tain  McGreal  is  satisfied.  Are  you  ready  to  go  on 
board?" 

"Sar,  here  is  el  Rio  Rey.     I  am  ready." 


146  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Allison  smiled,  and,  stepping  to  the  end  of  the  sea 
wall,  motioned  to  the  Tagal  in  one  of  the  many  ban 
cas  lying  tied  alongside. 

"Here,  you ! "  he  cried.     "  We  want  two  bancas ! " 

Half  a  dozen  little  brown  men  in  their  waiting 
canoes  sprang  into  swift  activity,  paddles  in  hand  and 
each  contributing  his  share  to  that  clamour  which 
attends  on  any  labour  done  or  attempted  by  Asiatics. 

"Come  on!"  said  Allison  to  McGreal,  stepping 
into  the  first  banca  that  came  under  him.  Then, 
turning  to  the  waiting  Eurasian,  "You  take  the 
next  boat,  Miguel,  and  follow  on.  Get  the  nigger  to 
tumble  your  chest  in." 

The  loading  of  the  chest  was  a  noisy  business,  too, 
but  it  was  done  at  last,  and  then  the  two  bancas, 
one  behind  the  other,  shot  out  into  the  stream  and 
went  swiftly  down  with  the  tawny  current  of  the 
Pasig. 

They  swept  thus  around  the  edge  of  the  seawall, 
the  boatmen  scarcely  using  their  paddles  excepting 
for  the  purposes  of  steering,  as  long  as  they  were  in 
the  river.  But  once  they  breasted  the  waters  of  the 
bay,  the  two  Tagals  in  each  boat  dipped  their  broad 
blades  in  furiously.  In  twenty  minutes  after  leav 
ing  the  Custom  House  the  bancas  drew  up,  one  after 
the  other,  to  the  gangway  hanging  down  from  the 
port  side  of  the  Lurline. 

They  had  passed  close  under  the  stern  of  the  green 
yacht  as  they  came  along  and  Allison  read  the  name 
of  her,  set  in  silver  letters,  "Petrel,  New  York.*' 


THE  GREEN  YACHT  147 

He  noted  the  trim  lines  of  her,  and  the  tall,  rakish 
spars,  and  the  screw  well  down  by  the  stern. 

"  Looks  like  she  might  be  able  to  go  some,"  he  said 
to  McGreal. 

"Sure  thing,  sir.  And  to  make  good  weather  in 
most  any  going." 

Several  of  the  crew  in  neat  green  and  white  suits 
lounged  about  the  forward  deck  of  the  yacht  and 
a  Negro  came  and  looked  down  over  the  after  rail  as 
they  passed,  showing  every  bit  of  ivory  that  he  had  in 
his  head.  But  of  her  cabin  people,  there  was  none  in 
sight. 

"I  suppose  her  people  are  ashore,  sightseeing,  sir," 
said  McGreal. 

"I'd  like  to  challenge  them  to  a  race,"  said  Allison, 
the  sporting  instinct  in  him  rising  strongly  at  sight  of 
the  beautiful  craft. 

"She  might  give  you  all  you  wanted,  at  that,  sir," 
said  McGreal,  and  then,  the  banca  drawing  in  close 
to  the  white  hull  of  the  Lurline.,  the  sailor  went  on, 
"but  this  is  a  beauty,  too.  Ought  to  walk  around 
anything  in  the  water  near  her  measure." 

"She's  the  real  thing,  all  right,"  replied  Allison,  but 
he  stopped  at  the  head  of  his  gangway  to  look  across 
once  more,  longingly,  at  the  green  yacht.  Then  he 
turned,  courteously,  and  welcomed  the  new  captain 
aboard. 

After  that  formality,  to  put  McGreal  in  possession 
of  the  captain's  office  was  the  work  of  but  a  few  min 
utes.  There  was  the  form  of  calling  to  the  break  of 


148  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  poop  such  of  the  crew  as  were  aboard  and  intro 
ducing  the  new  commander.  The  Lurline  carried  a 
cook,  eight  men,  and  a  mate,  of  such  as  are  to  be 
picked  up  commonly  in  Asian  ports.  Four  of  the  men 
were  on  shore  leave  that  morning.  The  other  four, 
with  the  mate  and  the  cook,  came  aft  and  ducked  to 
their  new  officer,  a  service  of  grog  by  the  cook,  at 
Allison's  order,  tending  to  carry  the  introduction  off 
well.  The  mate,  a  great,  white,  blue-eyed  Norse 
man,  with  a  tawny  mane  like  a  lion's  came  up  on  the 
quarterdeck  and  was  introduced  by  name  as  "Mr. 
Andressen." 

"We  will  want  to  get  out  of  here  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  Mr.  Andressen,"  said  McGreal,  sizing  up 
the  mate  in  one  comprehensive  glance.  "Mr.  Alli 
son  tells  me  that  the  yacht  is  provisioned  for  a  long 
cruise,  and  that  you  had  orders  to  get  water  aboard 
to-day.  There  will  be  nothing  to  hold  us,  then.  And 
I  wish  you  would  get  out  my  gig  for  me." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  the  man  addressed.  "The 
other  four  men  will  be  aboard  at  dark,  sir." 

He  turned,  at  that,  and  McGreal  watched  him  swing 
his  great  six  feet  of  body  forward  along  the  main  deck. 

"A  Viking,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  Allison.  "I 
think  we  may  count  on  that  man  in  a  pinch." 

"Yes,"  replied  Allison.  "I  believe  that  Andres- 
sen  is  an  honest  man." 

"It  is  one  to  the  good,"  said  McGreal. 

Then,  while  a  couple  of  sailors  were  lowering  the 
yacht's  gig  from  the  davits  under  the  stern  of  her,  and 


THE  GREEN  YACHT  149 

a  couple  more  were  hoisting  Di  Sousa's  camphor- wood 
chest  aboard — the  game  cock  was  carried  up  very 
tenderly  by  its  owner — Allison  took  his  new  sailing 
master  into  the  cabin  of  the  yacht.  It  was  all  in 
white,  picked  out  in  gold  beading,  and  the  furnish 
ings  were  of  bird's-eye  maple.  Six  roomy  cabins 
fitted  with  brass  beds  and  stationary  washstands 
opened  from  the  mam  saloon,  three  on  either  side, 
and  there  was  a  roomy  tiled  bathroom,  with  hot  and 
cold  taps,  away  aft. 

Running  forward  from  the  cabin  to  give  access  to 
the  main  deck,  a  narrow  passageway  opened  to  two 
large  rooms,  one  on  either  hand;  that  on  the  star 
board  side  for  the  captain  and  on  the  port  for  the  mate. 
And,  still  forward  of  these,  were  two  cabins  of  smaller 
size.  The  one  on  the  port  side  was  filled  with  a  general 
litter  of  sails  and  cordage,  and  was  used  as  a  sew 
ing  room  by  the  crew  in  mending  sails.  The  star 
board  cabin,  adjoining  the  captain's,  was  fitted 
for  the  use  of  the  cabin  steward,  with  a  sideboard 
handy.  Di  Sousa  was  already  in  the  place  when  Alli 
son  showed  it  to  the  captain,  his  camphor- wood  chest 
under  the  bunk  and  the  game  chicken  tethered  by  a 
soft  leather  holdfast  to  a  staple  behind  the  door. 

Returning  to  the  saloon,  Allison  touched  an  elec 
tric  button  set  in  the  head  of  the  cabin  table,  and, 
in  a  moment,  Di  Sousa  came  in  softly  from  the  'mid 
ships  passageway. 

"  Ready  for  duty,  Miguel?"  asked  the  owner. 

"Sar,Iamready!" 


150  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Very  well;  the  captain  is  going  on  a  little  expedi 
tion  of  his  own,  and  while  he  is  away,  I  will  show  you 
where  the  things  are  kept." 

Turning  to  McGreal,  he  went  on:  "  I  will  wait  here 
until  you  come  back  from  the  transport.  Then  we 
we  will  go  ashore  together  and  get  ready  to  clear  the 
yacht." 

McGreal  left  him  with  the  new  steward,  and,  with 
in  the  hour,  was  back  again.  A  couple  of  the  crew 
hoisted  aboard  the  Lurline  a  second  camphor-wood 
chest,  much  larger  than  Di  Sousa's,  which  was  stowed 
away  in  the  captain's  cabin. 

"  Have  any  trouble,  Captain?"  asked  Allison. 

"Not  a  great  deal,  sir.  The  Old  Man  stormed 
about  a  bit  at  first,  but  he  let  me  go." 

"Well,"  said  Allison,  "  I  am  glad  that  is  settled,  so 
far.  Now  for  the  shore,  and  clearance.  We  will 
take  the  gig,  this  time,  and  bring  Wentworth  off 
with  us.  Then  we  can  drop  down  the  harbour  at  day- 
light." 

The  few  formalities  needed  to  clear  the  yacht  for 
Nagasaki  were  got  through  with  very  quickly,  al 
though  the  business  involved  a  second  and  formal 
visit  to  the  British  Consulate.  Allison  telephoned  to 
Wentworth  at  the  Oriente  from  the  Custom  House, 
and  the  two  friends  went  together  to  the  Hongkong 
and  Shanghai  Bank  for  their  letters  of  credit,  and  after 
ward  to  the  Consulate.  The  cashier  and  the  Consul 
both  regretted,  politely,  that  they  could  not  have  the 
pleasure  of  showing  the  Americans  the  hospitalities 


THE  GREEN  YACHT  151 

of  the  club.  The  Consul  readily  gave  McGreal  a 
license  on  his  American  papers. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Wentworth  and  Allison,  with 
McGreal,  went  off  to  the  yacht,  again  passing  close 
to  the  Petrel,  and  again  seeing  no  one  on  board  that 
craft  but  the  lounging  members  of  her  crew.  The 
four  absent  members  of  the  Lurline*s  crew,  a  Jap,  two 
Lascars,  and  a  Portuguese  Negro,  came  tumbling 
aboard  from  a  banca  after  dark.  Their  white  duck 
uniforms  were  pretty  badly  soiled,  but  they  all  seemed 
sober,  which  was  a  blessing.  And,  away  along  in  the 
night,  while  Allison  and  Wentworth  sat  smoking  un 
der  the  poop  deck  awning,  there  was  a  subdued  hail 
from  the  water,  and  another  man  came  over  the  side 
out  of  a  banca,  was  received  with  a  few  whispers  at  the 
head  of  the  gangway  by  McGreal,  and  slunk  away 
forward. 

"Oleson,  I  suppose?"  muttered  Allison  in  a  low 
tone. 

Wentworth  kept  on  smoking  for  a  little.  "  It  seems 
to  me  we  have  rather  a  mixed  crew,  Frank,"  he  said, 
at  last. 

"Rather,"  agreed  Allison.  "I  rely  upon  the  last 
two  ingredients  added  to  hold  the  mixture  stable." 

"McGreal  and  Oleson?" 

"That's  right!  A  Dane  and  an  Irishman.  We 
can  depend  upon  them,  backs  to  our  backs.  And  I 
believe  that  the  mate  is  an  honest  man." 

"Andressen,  is  it,  you  call  him?  Yes;  I  like  An- 
dressen.  He  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  manhood." 


152  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Magnificent!  Looks  like  a  Norse  god — but  may 
be  a  Norse  devil." 

"A  devil,  depend  upon  it,  can  be  a  very  serviceable 
friend,"  said  Wentworth.  "  But  there  are  many  kinds 
of  devils.  And,  apropos,  your  new  cabin  boy  has  a  face 
that  is  not  calculated  to  inspire  confidence,  although 
his  notion  of  bringing  the  game  cock  along  pleases  me." 

"I  rather  like  that  myself,"  agreed  Allison.  "Al 
though  it  is  no  proof  of  probity.  I  have  known  a 
murderer  make  a  pet  of  a  canary  bird.  This  fellow  is 
a  rat." 

"He  looks  like  a  rat,"  said  Wentworth.  "On  the 
whole,  it  is  a  queer  gang.  I  saw  the  four  that  came 
aboard  to-night.  What  are  the  others  like?" 

"One  is  a  Finn  and  there  are  two  Chinese.  I  do 
not  know  what  the  fourth  one  is,  some  kind  of  mix 
ture  from  down  Celebes  way.  The  cook  claims  to  be 
a  Solomon  Islander.  They  are  cannibals,  you  know, 
and  he  looks  the  part.  He  is  the  ugliest  devil  I  ever 
saw,  out  of  a  jail." 

"There  are  possibilities  in  the  lot,"  said  Wentworth. 
"The  very  diversity  of  the  elements  may  make  for 
peace,  but  it  is  a  lucky  thing  the  inducements  are 
rather  to  serve  us  than  to  cut  our  throats.  You  keep 
the  arms  aft,  I  suppose?" 

"All  but  the  brass  four-pounder.  And  the  powder 
for  that  is  in  the  magazine  aft.  There  are  a  couple 
of  dozen  cutlasses  on  the  rack  in  my  cabin,  and  six 
Lee-Metford  carbines  in  the  bathroom  cuddy.  And  we 
have  our  revolvers.  Those  are  all  the  arms  aboard." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FOLLOWED   TO   SEA 

THE  mixed  crew  worked  with  a  will  in  the  early 
gray  of  the  morning  to  get  the  Lurline's  anchor 
out  of  the  mud,  and  long  before  the  sunbeams 
began  to  redden  the  sky  behind  the  white  city  the 
yacht  dropped  down  across  the  glassy  waters  of 
the  bay,  past  Marrivales,  and  out  through  the 
Boca  Chica  into  the  short  chop  of  the  China  Sea. 
There  had  not  been,  as  she  ran  down  with  the  engines 
working  smoothly,  the  faintest  ripple  of  wind.  Cor- 
regidor  lay  mirrored  in  the  sea  like  a  picture  of  two 
islands,  one  upon  the  other;  and  every  banca  moored 
beside  the  pier  before  the  village  of  nipa  huts,  every 
native  that  moved  along  shore  or  about  his  boat,  found 
his  reflected  double  following  his  movement  in  the  un 
derworld  of  the  water. 

Yet  out  at  sea  the  short  waves  ran  under  the  sun 
that  rose  from  the  red  and  golden  glory  of  its  crimsoned 
couch  in  the  clouds,  each  wave  tipped  with  a  twinkling 
cascade  of  shining  jewels  as  the  long  gusts  of  wind 
out  of  the  northeast  reached  down  to  touch  the  sur 
face  of  the  water. 

"It  will  be  blowing  strongly  enough  by  the  time  we 
are  abreast  of  Lingayon  Gulf,"  said  Allison,  turning 

153 


154  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

from  contemplation  of  the  shore  line  of  Luzon  to 
speak  to  Went  worth. 

They  stood  together  at  the  stern  rail,  watching  the 
steep  shores  recede  and  the  strong  waves  as  they  ran, 
while  Captain  McGreal,  well  forward  on  the  poop, 
kept  the  crew  jumping  to  get  sail  on  her. 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  turn  to  a  typhoon,"  replied  Went- 
worth,  "  at  least  until  we  are  clear  of  Cape  Angana." 

"No  danger  of  that,  so  long  as  this  wind  holds," 
said  Allison.  "If  a  typhoon  should  strike  us,  with 
no  more  offing  than  this,  we  would  not  be  likely  to 
get  even  as  far  as  Lingayon.  McGreal  handles  her 
well,  doesn't  he?" 

"And  himself  better.  He  is  going  to  make  good 
in  his  first  command.  He  is  getting  sail  on  her  now 
to  save  gas." 

"That's  what!" 

And  the  new  captain  was  showing  himself  a  master 
hand  in  the  handling  of  a  schooner — which  is  a 
different  trick  from  sailing  a  square  rigger.  He  had 
put  the  engine  at  half  speed  and  got  the  jibs  on  her 
the  moment  she  was  clear  of  the  little  mouth  of  the 
harbour.  In  a  little  more  the  foresail  was  shaken  out, 
and  then  the  main.  And,  as  Allison  spoke,  he  called 
two  men  forward  and  two  aft  to  go  aloft  and  break 
out  the  topsails.  Then  only  he  stopped  the  engine. 

The  schooner  was  standing  straight  out  on  the  wind, 
and  it  was  evident  that  McGreal  wanted  to  get  every 
inch  there  was  in  it  out  of  her  while  the  breeze  held 
fair.  The  green  and  rugged  shores  of  Luzon  were 


FOLLOWED  TO  SEA  155 

dropping  astern  fast  and  faster  with  each  passing 
moment. 

"I  want  to  get  a  good  offing,"  the  captain  said,  at 
last,  coming  aft  to  Allison  and  Wentworth  as  the  top 
sails  bellied  out  and  were  sheeted  home.  "This 
China  Sea  is  a  nasty  bit  of  water,  sir.  It  will  not  do 
to  lie  on  a  lee  shore  and  trust  to  Providence." 

"There  isn't  much  danger  of  a  typhoon  at  this  time 
of  year,"  said  Allison. 

"  There  is  not,"  agreed  the  captain.  "And  the  glass 
holds  up  well.  All  the  same,  I'll  feel  better  when 
she's  clear  of  Cape  Angana,  with  the  whole  North 
Pacific  to  dart  out  into.  I  don't  take  kindly  to  run 
ning  among  islands.  The  green  yacht  has  followed 
us  out,  sir." 

Allison  and  Wentworth  looked  astern,  at  that,  very 
quickly.  There,  sure  enough,  was  the  Petrel  of  New 
York,  standing  straight  out  from  the  harbour,  and 
following,  as  nearly  as  might  be,  the  course  of  the 
Lurline. 

"That  fellow  wants  an  offing,  too,"  observed  Cap 
tain  McGreal.  "You  may  get  your  will  of  her  and 
have  a  race  yet,  sir." 

"Now,  wouldn't  that  beat  you!"  exclaimed  Alli 
son.  "Where  do  you  suppose  that  fellow  is  going?" 

"Let's  take  your  glass,  Frank,"  cried  Wentworth. 
Then,  after  holding  it  to  his  eye  for  a  moment : "  There 
are  women  aboard  her.  Look ! " 

Allison  took  the  glass  which  Wentworth  held  out 
to  him. 


156  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"That  is  so,"  he  said.  "There  are  two  of  them  on 
the  poop,  and  I  suppose  the  man  standing  with  them  is 
the  skipper.  We  have  been  lacking  in  yachtsmen's 
courtesy,  John.  We  should  have  called  on  the  Petrel 
in  the  harbour." 

Went  worth  made  no  reply  to  this.  His  mind  ran 
upon  things  graver  than  the  mere  forms  of  politeness. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  after  a  little,  still  watching  the 
yacht  astern  of  them,  "if  they  can  be  following  us?" 

"We  will  soon  know  whether  they  are  on  the  same 
course,  anyhow,"  said  McGreal. 

The  Lurline  held  on  as  she  was  until  the  hills  of 
Luzon  were  but  a  dim  blur,  lying  all  along  the  eastern 
horizon — and  the  Petrel  held  on,  likewise,  maybe  a 
mile  astern  of  her.  Just  before  noon  the  Lurline 
wheeled  like  a  white  bird  upon  the  water,  going  off 
on  a  long  tack  into  the  northwest,  with  the  wind  abeam 
and  still  fair,  and  looking  back  over  the  stern  rail, 
Allison  and  Wentworth  saw  the  Petrel  wheel,  also, 
and  still  follow  on. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

THE  WAY  OF  A  MAN — AND  THE  WAY  OF  A  MAID 

NOW  it  is  a  fact  that  two  yachts  out  of  Manila 
might  very  well  take  the  same  course  to  get 
a  proper  offing  without  the  one  astern  being 
fairly  suspected  to  be  in  chase  of  the  other.  And 
while  the  people  in  the  Lurline  had,  perhaps,  some 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  might  be  followed,  ashore 
or  afloat,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  after  that  first  conject 
ure  on  the  part  of  Went  worth,  none  of  them  for  the 
moment  gave  very  serious  thought  to  the  possibility 
that  the  Petrel  was  hi  pursuit. 

The  Lurline  stood  well  away  from  the  shore  all  day 
and  all  night,  and  as  long  as  Wentworth  and  Allison 
sat  smoking  on  deck  under  the  awning  aft  they  could 
catch  occasional  glimpses  of  the  lights  of  the  Petrel 
where  she  was  holding  a  position  about  a  mile  astern 
and  a  little  to  the  windward  of  them.  The  breeze 
held  abeam  all  night  long,  and,  for  a  bit  of  water  with 
the  reputation  that  it  bears  among  mariners  of  all 
nations,  the  China  Sea  was  well  behaved. 

By  daylight,  according  to  the  judgment  of  McGreal, 
the  Lurline  had  northing  enough  to  clear  Angana  in 
the  event  of  a  shift  of  the  wind  into  the  cyclone  quar 
ter.  And  the  Petrel,  still  holding  the  same  relative 

157 


158  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

position  astern,  had  attained,  of  course,  the  same  ad 
vantage. 

"That  fellow  is  heading  up  for  Hongkong,  I  sup 
pose,"  said  Wentworth,  coming  on  deck  after  his 
morning  coffee. 

"Why,  yes,  sir,*'  replied  the  captain.  "But  I 
do  not  make  out  why  he  did  not  run  away  from  us 
in  the  night." 

"Could  he  have  done  that?" 

"It's  plain  enough  you  are  no  sailor,  sir.  Do  you 
not  see  that  we  have  about  everything  on  her  that  it 
is  wise  to  carry  in  cruising,  topsails  and  all?  And 
everything  we  have  drawing?  Well,  we  have  carried 
on  all  through  the  night,  and  got  everything  out  of 
her  that  the  wind  would  give  us.  And  that  fellow  is 
running  close  hauled,  and  without  his  topsails.  At 
that,  he  has  held  his  place  all  night  long!" 

"You  think  the  green  yacht  the  better  sailor, 
then?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"She  could  sail  rings  around  us,  sir." 

"Why,  then,"  said  Allison,  who  came  on  deck  at 
the  moment,  "it  is  perhaps  just  as  well  that  I  did  not 
challenge  her  people  to  a  race." 

"You  would  have  been  beaten  hollow,  sir," 
said  McGreal. 

"You  mean  to  say  she  has  kept  up  with  us  close- 
hauled  while  we  have  been  carrying  on?"  asked 
Allison. 

"Just  that,  sir!"  replied  the  sailing  master. 

Allison  whistled. 


"Do  you  think,"  asked  Wentworth,  the  notion 
of  the  day  before  coming  back  to  him,  "that  they  are 
folio  wing  us?" 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  have  enough  to  go  upon  to 
say  that,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  slowly.  "But  we 
will  find  out  to-day,  or,  at  the  latest,  to-morrow 
morning." 

"How?  "asked  Allison. 

"Why,  sir,  do  you  see,  we  will  be  high  enough  up 
by  dark  for  that  fellow  to  begin  to  shape  a  course  in 
for  the  China  coast;  if  he  is  bound  for  Hongkong. 
With  this  breeze  of  wind,  indeed,  he  could  make  better 
time  now  by  bearing  away  to  the  westward.  But 
some  captains  like  to  keep  plenty  of  sea  room,  and  it 
may  suit  his  notion  to  get  more  northing  and  then  run 
down  for  the  island  on  the  wind.  If  he  holds  the  same 
course  all  night  to-night  that  he  held  last  night — why, 
then  we  will  see." 

"How  will  we  see?"  persisted  Wentworth. 

"WTiy,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  "to-morrow  morn 
ing  should  put  us  well  up  toward  the  entrance  to  For 
mosa  Channel  if  this  slant  of  wind  holds.  Even  if 
the  wind  falls  off,  and  we  have  to  trust  to  the  engine, 
we  can  do  it,  bar  a  big  blow.  Well,  then!  If  that 
fellow  is  still  following  us  to-morrow  morning,  I 
intend  to  put  about  and  run  down  and  speak  to 
him." 

"He  may  still  be  making  for  a  port  above  Hong 
kong,"  suggested  Allison. 

"No  harm  done  if  he  is,"  replied  McGreal.     "But 


160  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

if  he  is  following  us  he  will  never  permit  us  to  come 
within  hailing  distance  of  him." 

"That  seems  likely,  too,"  said  Wentworth. 

"Surest  thing  you  know,  sir,"  said  McGreal, 
stepping  away  at  the  same  moment  to  speak  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel. 

The  Lurline  held  on  her  course  all  day;  and  the 
green  yacht  attended  her  as  closely  as  any  consort. 
Allison  and  Wentworth,  indeed,  began  to  feel  a  kind 
of  sea  friendliness  for  the  beautiful  craft,  and  that 
despite  the  possibility,  recognized  by  both,  that  she 
might  be  dangerously  hostile  to  them  and  their  pur 
pose.  She  was  so  fine  to  look  upon!  She  held  her 
place  with  such  a  mastery  of  sea  craft — as  though 
the  soul  in  her  ruled  and  spurned  the  running  waves ! 
Even  in  waters  that  bore  so  much  of  man's  treachery 
as  the  China  Sea,  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  so  fair 
an  exterior  as  that  of  the  green  yacht  could  cover  a 
menace. 

Those  on  the  Lurline  could  see  the  people  on  the 
deck  of  the  other  yacht  very  plainly:  two  women  in 
reclining  chairs  aft,  as  there  had  been  the  day  before, 
and  the  man  in  uniform  of  white  trimmed  with  green, 
and  with  a  sparkle  of  gold  at  his  cuffs.  This  man 
seemed  to  be  full  of  the  cares  of  his  vessel.  Although 
there  was  a  chair  placed  for  him  aft,  close  to  the 
the  chairs  of  the  women,  he  sat  in  it  but  little.  Us 
ually  he  was  up  and  about  the  deck,  giving  quick 
orders  to  the  men  who  moved  about  forward,  speak 
ing  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,  studying  the  sea  or  the 


THE  WAY  OF  A  MAN  AND  A  MAID    161 

horizon,  watchful,  alert,  as  a  sailing  master  should 
be. 

The  women,  on  the  other  hand,  took  matters  very 
easily.  Perhaps  they  had  full  faith  in  the  skill  of 
their  sailing  master.  They  were  in  white  and  green, 
and  one  of  them  seemed  intent  upon  some  fancy  work 
in  her  hands.  The  other  sat  reading,  or  looking  idly 
on  the  changing  beauty  of  the  sea.  Through  the 
glass,  indeed,  Allison  and  Wentworth  could  see  that 
the  book  took  but  little  of  her  attention,  lying  neg 
lected,  for  the  most  part,  in  her  lap. 

Once  she  rose,  a  tall,  graceful  figure,  and  picked  up 
a  marine  glass  from  the  cabin  skylight.  Wentworth, 
lying  back  in  his  steamer  chair,  was  watching  her 
through  a  glass  at  the  moment  himself.  And  some 
thing  seemed  to  flash  across  to  him  as  she  looked,  an 
electric  shock.  The  meeting  in  space  of  human 
thought  waves  it  might  have  been. 

"By  God!"  he  exclaimed,  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  still  holding  the  glass  to  his  eye.  "By  the 
living  God!" 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Allison,  looking  up  quickly. 

"The  woman!"  cried  Wentworth.  "It  is  not 
possible!  I  must  be  crazy!  Yet  I  would  swear  it 
to  be  the  figure  of  Margaret  Graeme ! " 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Allison. 

"Do  I  not  say  that  I  must  be  crazy? "  replied  Went 
worth.  "But  take  the  glass  and  look." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"LET  HER  FOLLOW  HER  WAY" 

WENTWORTH  handed  the  binocular  to  his 
friend  as  he  spoke,  and  Allison,  who  had 
risen,  focussed  the  glass  to  his  sight. 

"It  does  resemble  her,"  he  admitted,  after  a  long, 
slow  look.  "I  cannot  distinguish  the  face  plainly 
at  this  distance,  but  it  does  look  like  her.  Could 
Margaret  Graeme,  by  any  possibility,  be  here?" 

"You  told  her  of  my  plans,"  said  Wentworth,  in 
reply.  "You  may  have  been  putting  into  her  hands 
more  than  you  dreamed.  If  Captain  Robert  Graeme 
is  her  brother?  By  George!  We  must  find  out 
about  this!" 

"We  are  not  sure  that  it  is  Margaret  Graeme," 
said  Allison. 

"I  believe  that  it  is,"  said  Wentworth.  "The 
first  thing  is  to  make  sure." 

He  motioned  McGreal  toward  him  as  he  spoke. 

"Captain,"  he  asked,  "when  did  you  mean  to  find 
out  whether  the  yacht  out  there  is  following  us?" 

"To-morrow  morning,  sir,  when  we  are  well  up  to 
ward  the  entrance  to  Formosa  Channel." 

"I  think  that  we  can  prove  it  earlier,"  said  Went 
worth. 

162 


"LET  HER  FOLLOW  HER  WAY"      163 

"How  so,  sir?" 

"Both  Mr.  Allison  here  and  myself  are  inclined  to 
think  that  we  recognize  one  of  the  women  on  her  as — 
well,  as  a  friend  of  ours,"  replied  Wentworth.  "If 
we  are  correct  hi  our  conjecture,  the  yacht  must  be 
following  us.  And  we  can  prove  it  this  moment  by 
running  down  as  if  to  speak  her." 

"A  woman,  you  say,  sir?"  queried  the  captain. 

"A  woman,  yes." 

"A  woman  who  would  be  interested  in  following 
you,  sir?  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  would  it  be  for  the 
woman's  reason?" 

"It  might  be  that — or  another,"  admitted  Went 
worth,  flushing. 

"  I  think  it  is  that,"  said  Allison. 

"Just  so,"  said  the  captain.  "And  would  her 
other  reason,  if  she  has  another  reason,  be  con 
nected  with  the  purpose  of  our  cruise?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"We  think  so,"  replied  Wentworth. 

"Friendly  interest?"  persisted  the  captain. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  \Ventworth. 

"I  should  say  friendly,  decidedly,"  struck  in 
Allison. 

"Why, then,  sir,"  said  McGreal,  "if  you  will  permit 
me  to  make  a  suggestion,  it  would  be  that  it  is  unwise 
to  go  about  now,  and  attempt  to  force  the  hand  of 
the  people  in  the  other  yacht." 

"Why?"  asked  Wentworth. 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,  a  woman's  purpose  is  generally 


164  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

different  from  a  man's  purpose,  and  she  goes  about 
the  accomplishment  of  it  in  a  different  way." 

"More  subtle?"  suggested  Allison. 

"That  is  the  word,  sir.  A  man  never  puts  his  foot 
into  another  man's  game  but  he  takes  a  chance  at 
marring  it.  Ladies  are  different;  and  this  one,  being 
a  friend  of  yours,  if  so  be  that  you  are  in  the  right 
of  it  as  to  that,  is  no  doubt  following  you  with  the 
notion  of  helping  you  in  her  own  way  and  at  her  own 
time.  Being  a  woman,  she  probably  has  the  whole 
thing  mapped  out,  sir.  And  if  she  hasn't  she  will  be 
all  the  quicker  to  act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  for 
trusting  to  the  chapter  of  accidents. 

"More  than  that,  sir,  my  experience  of  the  China 
Sea  is  such  that  a  friendly  consort  is  a  thing  that  any 
seaman  would  be  wise  to  keep  at  hand,  so  be  that 
he  could.  Now,  as  a  woman,  your  friend  will  only 
want  to  help  you  in  her  own  way,  and  it  is  likely  that 
she  won't  want  you  to  know  who  is  doing  the  help 
ing.  If  we  go  about  now,  and  show  her  that  we  sus 
pect  her,  why,  we  are  as  likely  as  not  to  frighten  her 
clean  out  of  the  whole  adventure." 

"That  sounds  altogether  reasonable,"  said  Allison. 
"But  who  would  have  suspected  an  old  sea  dog  of 
such  deep  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  the  sex?  " 

"It  is  reasonable,  sir,"  replied  McGreal,  putting 
the  jocular  imputation  aside  with  a  blush.  "If  that 
fellow  there,"  indicating  the  Petrel,  "is  still  on  our 
track  to-morrow  morning,  we  will  know  pretty  well 
that  he  is  following  us  without  any  test  about  it. 


"LET  HER  FOLLOW  HER  WAY"      165 

And  we  will  not  have  given  our  own  hand  away, 
either." 

"I  suppose  that  is  so,"  said  Wentworth. 

"It  is  so,"  went  on  McGreal.  "And  if  they  are 
following  us,  and  the  lady  on  board  is  a  friend  of 
yours,  I  should  say  that  the  yacht  is  more  likely  to 
drop  alongside  at  a  critical  moment  and  lend  a  hand 
than  to  hurt  us." 

"Much  more  likely"  agreed  Allison. 

"It  comes  around  to  the  same  thing,  then,"  said 
the  captain.  "It  will  pay  us  not  to  let  on  at  any  time 
that  we  suspect  we  are  being  followed.  Even  if  that 
yacht  runs  up  into  Formosa  Channel  behind  us,  it  is 
no  particular  harm,  that  I  can  see — that  is,  always 
provided  that  the  green  yacht  carries  your  friends. 

"And,  on  the  other  hand,"  continued  McGreal, 
"if  the  yacht  is  following  us  with  her  movements  di 
rected  by  those  who  are  not  friends  I  do  not  see  how 
we  are  to  shake  her  off.  And  what  the  devil  are  you 
doing  here?" 

He  broke  off,  suddenly,  to  hurl  his  question  at  the 
steward,  Di  Sousa,  who  had  crept  up  on  deck  and  had 
been  standing,  none  of  them  could  say  how  long,  very 
close  to  the  three  men  as  they  talked. 

"Sar,"  responded  the  Eurasian,  "I  come  to  say 
that  the  breakfast,  she  is  serve!" 

"Come  up  in  front  of  me,  and  speak  out,  then!" 
said  McGreal,  sternly.  "  Go  on  below ! " 

And  as  the  Eurasian  bowed  and  effaced  himself, 
the  captain  turned  to  Allison  and  Wentworth. 


166  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"There  are  times  when  that  chap  reminds  me  of  a 
rat,  with  his  sneaking  ways,"  he  said.  "As  I  was 
saying,  sir,  if  that  yacht  is  an  enemy  I  do  not  well 
see  how  we  are  to  shake  her  off.  She  has  the  heels 
of  us.  And  it  is  possible  for  her  to  do  a  lot  of  harm 
too." 

"In  case  we  should  sight  the  Neried  out  here?" 
suggested  Allison. 

"That's  one  thing,  sir.  She  could  run  down  ahead 
of  us  to  cut  the  tramp  off  and  give  warning.  And  at 
the  last,  she  could  beat  us  into  Nagasaki  and  do  the 
same  thing." 

"Which  is  what  she  will  be  more  likely  to  do," 
remarked  Wentworth. 

"I  am  not  so  sure,"  replied  the  captain,  who  had 
been  glancing  all  around  the  horizon  as  he  talked, 
after  the  manner  of  seamen.  "There  is  a  steamer 
now  off  to  windward." 

He  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  a  long  smudge  of  smoke 
lying  low  along  the  eastern  horizon.  And  then  he 
trained  his  glass,  and  studied  the  point  for  a  mo 
ment  or  two  where  the  smoke  seemed  densest. 

"I  may  be  wrong,"  he  went  on,  "but  she  is  cer 
tainly  heading  up  the  coast.  These  seas  are  much 
frequented,  still,  that  may  be  the  Neried  bound  north 
from  Iloilo.  If  we  are  to  see  her  at  all  it  should  be 
somewhere  along  about  here  that  we  would  pick  her 
up." 

Allison  and  Wentworth  had  both  looked  at  the 
smudge  of  smoke  as  soon  as  McGreal  pointed  it  out. 


"LET  HER  FOLLOW  HER  WAY"      167 

And  with  about  as  much  satisfaction  as  untrained 
men  usually  get  from  such  things  at  sea.  Away  off 
there  to  windward,  maybe  five  miles  distant,  a 
steamer  was  passing.  They  could  make  out  her  two 
sticks  and  a  double  funnel  through  the  glass.  And 
that  was  all. 

"The  Neried  has  two  sticks  and  a  double  funnel," 
said  McGreal. 

"  Will  you  head  out  toward  her?  "  asked  Allison. 

"I  do  not  see  the  good,  sir,"  replied  the  captain. 
"We  are  safe  to  cross  her,  going  as  we  are;  and  we  are 
making  better  weather  on  this  course.  If  that  is  the 
Neried,  she  cannot  get  away  from  us  now,  and  we 
will  just  about  run  her  down  in  Formosa  Channel. 
Those  tramps  are  slow  tubs." 

The  interest  of  the  two  friends  came  back  again 
to  the  Petrel  and  the  woman  in  her.  She  had  seated 
herself  again  in  the  deck  chair,  but  through  the  glass 
Wentworth  could  see  that  she  still  studied  the  group 
on  the  after  deck  of  the  Lurline.  Agreeing  in  the 
entire  reasonableness  of  the  proposition  of  letting  a 
woman  and  her  purposes  alone,  neither  Allison  nor 
Wentworth,  as  they  went  below  to  breakfast,  was  yet 
ready  to  give  up  the  purpose  to  come  at  last,  in  some 
way,  to  close  quarters  with  the  Petrel. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ALONE    UPON    A    STORM-TOSSED    SEA 

A  CRUISE  at  sea  is  like  the  life  of  a  man  in 
this:  that  day  by  day  routine  duties  arise 
and  are  performed;  and  work  is  left  lying, 
half  forgotten,  along  the  course  which  yet  leads  surely 
to  the  crisis  of  man's  performance.  The  routine 
duties  hold  the  day's  interest,  no  more.  Men,  other 
men,  contemplate  the  catastrophe  and  point  out,  one 
to  another,  how  the  avoidance  of  this  one  error,  or  the 
better  performance  of  that  task,  would  have  changed 
the  sum  total.  And  yet  no  man  avoids  the  error  or 
betters  the  performance  in  the  work  of  his  own  life. 

For  three  days  the  Lurline  stood  up  along  the 
China  coast,  well  out  at  sea,  heading  for  the  For 
mosa  Channel  to  the  leeward  of  Patas  on  her  course 
for  Nagasaki.  For  three  days  the  Petrel  followed 
approximately  on  the  same  course,  sometimes  far  to 
windward,  sometimes  almost  out  of  sight,  but  always 
giving  those  on  the  Lurline  to  know  that  they  were 
not  to  be  permitted  to  get  out  of  view.  With  the 
slant  of  wind  out  of  the  northeast,  which  held  steady, 
this  was  easy  enough  for  the  faster  boat  to  do. 

The  people  in  the  two  yachts  saw  many  smudges  of 
smoke  along  the  horizon.  Those  be  populous  seas. 

168 


UPON  A  STORM-TOSSED  SEA        169 

Great  numbers  of  the  crowded  junks  of  Hangchau, 
running  down  the  coast  on  the  wind  and  with  their 
painted  eyes  staring  dead  ahead,  passed  them.  Once 
the  Lurline  went  close  to  a  big  P.  &  O.  liner,  holding 
down  from  Shanghai  with  a  bone  in  her  teeth;  and 
again,  one  day,  a  beautiful  white  cruiser  of  the 
American  navy  raced  past,  bound  north,  spurning  the 
waves  like  some  swift  sea  bird,  and  dipped  her  colours 
in  salute.  And  in  the  many  vessels  sighted,  far  off  and 
close  at  hand,  and  in  the  passing  of  the  nights,  it 
happened,  naturally,  that  the  particular  smudge  that 
had  been  thought  to  mark  the  passing  of  the  Neried 
was  lost.  It  did  not  make  a  great  deal  of  difference. 
It  might  have  been  difficult  to  deal  with  the  tramp 
at  sea.  Her  next  port  of  call  was  known,  and  the 
Lurline  people  counted  on  beating  her  to  it*  The 
chance  of  an  encounter  before  reaching  Nagasaki 
had  hardly  been  more  than  reckoned  on  as  among 
the  possibilities. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  with  the  two 
yachts  well  up  into  the  Channel,  the  slant  of  wind 
that  had  held  on  for  so  long  died  in  long,  wailing 
gusts.  The  breeze  became  fitful,  chopping  all  around 
the  compass.  The  sails  of  the  Lurline  falling  over 
against  the  booms  slatted  with  the  roll  of  the  sea, 
cracking  as  a  pistol  cracks.  The  long  booms 
creaked  dismally  as  they  swung  over,  catching  with  a 
sickening  jerk  at  the  end  of  the  swing,  and  every 
block  in  her  rigging  groaned.  It  seemed,  momentarily, 
as  if  the  slatting  would  jerk  the  sticks  out  of  her. 


170  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"We  are  in  the  lee  of  Formosa,  I  suppose,"  said 
Allison  to  McGreal,  catching  the  after  rail  quickly,  as 
he  spoke,  to  keep  his  steamer  chair  from  sliding  clear 
away  across  the  deck. 

"Aye,"  replied  the  captain,  casting  a  long  look 
astern.  "That  is  like  enough.  But  I  don't  like  the 
look  of  the  sky,  sir;  and  the  glass  is  running  down." 

Wentworth,  who  sat  in  another  chair  alongside 
that  of  Allison,  rose  at  that  and  went  into  the  cabin 
companionway  to  consult  the  aneroid  kept  hanging 
there. 

"Gee!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  came  back  and  sat 
down  again.  "It  is  going  down  with  a  run." 

"It  will  come  on  for  a  good  blow  out  of  the  south, 
and  I  wouldn't  wonder,"  said  Captain  McGreal. 

"A  typhoon?"  asked  Allison. 

"It  would  be  hard  to  say,  sir.  But  this  Channel 
is  in  their  regular  course,  blowing  out  to  sea." 

"Not  exactly  the  best  place  to  be  caught?"  sug 
gested  Allison. 

"Why,"  replied  McGreal,  "there  are  better  places. 
I  thought  that  the  slant  of  wind  that  has  failed  would 
have  carried  us  through,  but  we  must  even  make 
shift  anyway  not  to  be  caught  in  here,  if  we  can  help 
it." 

He  stepped  to  the  break  of  the  poop  as  he  spoke. 

"Forrard  there,  Mr.  Andressen!" 

The  mate,  who  was  stirring  up  the  men  to  the 
polishing  of  brasses  and  the  general  painting  and 
brightening  of  things  forward,  after  the  manner  of 


UPON  A  STORM-TOSSED  SEA        171 

mates  when  work  is  to  seek  on  shipboard,  answered 
at  once: 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

"Rout  out  that  engineer  and  get  some  way  on 
her!"  cried  the  captain.  "Let  him  turn  her  over 
for  all  she  has,  at  that !  And  get  the  sails  off  her  and 
fold  away  the  cabin  awnings!  Make  all  snug.  And 
get  it  done  lively,  now!  It  is  no  use,  this  slatting." 
The  captain  came  back  to  Allison  and  Wentworth, 
having  seen  the  bustle  of  obedience  to  his  orders  be 
gun. 

"They  are  doing  the  same  thing  on  the  Petrel, 
sir,"  he  said.  "She  has  lost  the  wind,  too." 

A  glance  astern,  to  where  the  other  yacht  had 
been  rolling  a  mile  or  two  to  windward,  showed  that 
she  was  indeed  getting  her  sails  in  with  a  run,  and 
beginning  to  gather  way  as  her  screw  turned.  In  an 
other  moment  the  exhaust  of  the  Lurline  began  to 
talk,  too;  there  was  a  gurgling  sound  as  the  steers 
man  threw  her  over  a  point  or  two  to  meet  the  long 
seas  running  out  of  the  northeast  and  the  yacht 
moved  forward,  lightly  and  easily,  in  obedience  to  the 
screw. 

The  sea  went  down  very  fast.  One  hour  before 
sunset  the  Formosa  Channel  lay  like  a  lake  about 
the  schooner,  only  the  long  heave  of  the  lazy  ground 
swell  rising  and  falling.  It  was  a  lake  of  bright 
coppery  tinge,  reflected  from  the  glowing  face  of  a 
malignant  sky.  And  the  sun,  on  the  western  edge 
of  the  waves,  was  just  a  great  shield  of  red-hot  brass, 


172  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

alive  and  quivering.  And  it  changed  its  shape  as  it 
went  down  until  it  became  a  fiery,  giant,  humming 
top  that  seemed  to  spin  dizzily  before  it  plunged, 
point  foremost,  into  the  sea. 

All  along  the  southern  horizon,  as  the  sun  sank, 
a  mountain  range  of  clouds  was  growing  out  of  the 
ocean.  It  was  a  fair  range  of  golden  hills  at  first, 
but  it  darkened,  deep  ravines  and  then  towering 
summits,  through  copper  and  bronze  to  blue-black 
as  the  day  died.  And,  in  the  red  afterglow,  it  shone 
with  soft  rose  colour  in  all  the  changing  depths  of  its 
peaks  and  valleys. 

Then,  as  the  red  faded  out,  streams  of  fire  darted 
from  peak  to  peak  across  the  deep  black  canons  of 
cloudland,  and  the  thunder  crashed  and  echoed  and 
rumbled  amidst  the  summits  as  when  a  summer 
tempest  rolls  among  the  mountains  of  the  earth. 

"I  wish  we  were  well  out  of  this  damned  Channel! " 
said  Captain  McGreal,  standing  to  watch  the  clouds 
as  they  climbed,  high  and  higher,  into  the  fast-dark 
ening  sky. 

"Why,  after  all,  there  is  some  room  in  here,'*  ex 
claimed  Allison. 

"Ha!"  replied  the  sailor.  "Some  room?  With 
the  shallows,  and  Panghi  Island  close  aboard,  it  is 
likely;  and  every  sea  a  trap!  Some  room!  There 
is  more  in  the  Yellow  Sea,  to  the  north'ard!" 

"The  other  fellow  is  in  the  same  case,"  remarked 
Wentworth,  indicating  the  yacht  astern  with  a 
gesture. 


UPON  A  STORM-TOSSED  SEA        173 

"And  the  Neried  is  tumbling  about,  too,  sir,  some 
where,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder,"  replied  McGreal  to 
this.  "We  are  as  safe  to  ride  anything  out  as  that 
old  tub,  anyhow!" 

"It  will  be  a  typhoon,  then,  you  think?"  asked 
Allison. 

"No  less  than  that,  sir!  Do  you  note  how  the 
yacht  talks  to  the  seas  as  she  goes  on?  Ships  know, 
sir!" 

"Why,  then,"  said  Wentworth,  "wouldn't  it  be 
better  to  make  for  some  port?  The  map  seems 
dotted  with  harbours  hereabouts." 

"No  time,  sir,"  answered  McGreal.  "This 
Lurline  is  good  for  not  more  than  ten  knots  on  the 
screw,  I  should  say,  take  her  at  her  best.  That 
storm  down  there  is  rushing  up  behind  us  at  the  rate 
of  not  less  than  sixty — and  it  may  be  coming  faster." 

"Better  turn  and  face  it,  then,"  said  Allison. 

"Ten  against  sixty!"  exclaimed  McGreal,  with  a 
short  laugh.  "We  will  run  as  far  north  as  we  can  at 
speed,  sir;  and  then  even  we  must  trust  to  the  wind 
to  drive  us  into  the  open  sea  before  we  get  the  full 
force  of  it.  If  it  strikes  us  with  its  extreme  fury  at 
the  first,  why,  then  we  must  hang  on  tight  to  the 
coat  tails  of  Providence,  and  avoid  every  green  sea 
that  seems  like  to  poop  her!  That's  all  we  can  do, 
sir." 

As  he  spoke  there  came,  feeling  its  way  across  the 
sea  from  the  southward,  a  long,  breaking  sob  of  wind 
that  was  like  a  catch  of  breath  from  the  hot  depths 


174  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

of  hell.  And  it  died  away  as  it  came,  rippling  the 
dark  face  of  the  sea  as  though  the  touch  of  it  had 
made  the  water  boil. 

Then  McGreal  leaped  to  the  break  of  the  poop. 
For  the  first  time  in  that  cruise  he  had  caught  from 
its  rack  in  the  cabin  companionway  the  silver  trum 
pet  that  went  with  the  master's  office. 

"Forrard  there!"  he  cried.  "Mr.  Andressen! 
Get  the  fore  and  main  on  her!  Break  out  the  jibs! 
Let  us  get  all  we  can  out  of  the  wind  while  it  is  just 
feeling  its  way,  like." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  came  the  reply;  and  the  men 
leaped  to  the  falls  and  ran  the  sails  up,  only  to  have 
them  slat  over  and  over,  banging  the  booms  about  to 
the  creaking  of  the  blocks,  and  actually,  for  the  mo 
ment,  making  her  lose  way  on  the  roll. 

But  it  was  only  for  that  instant.  Out  of  the  south 
once  more  came  the  sob  of  the  hot  wind,  longer  than 
before.  The  Lurline  was  ready,  and  it  caught  her 
sails  and  drove  her  through  the  water  hissing.  Then 
the  gusts  came  fast  and  faster,  while  the  black  clouds 
rolled  clear  away  across  the  heavens,  and  darkness 
was  on  all  the  deep.  Great  waves  rushed  on  before 
the  wind,  rolling  high  and  higher.  The  sails,  holding 
a  good  full,  strained  at  their  braces,  and  the  taut 
ropes  sang  of  storm  and  wreck,  and  of  that  under 
world  where  fishes  sport  over  white  bones  in  deep 
sea  caves. 

Allison  and  Wentworth  held  the  deck  of  the 
Lurline  while  the  wind  increased  to  a  steady  gale, 


UPON  A  STORM-TOSSED  SEA        175 

but  they  had  called  the  cabin  steward  to  put  their 
steamer  chairs  below.  The  two  friends  stood,  each 
holding  by  a  stanchion,  to  look  upon  the  waves  that 
ran  by  in  the  darkness  with  an  angrier  hissing  each 
moment,  breaking  into  little  flashes  of  pale-green 
flame  where  their  crests  were  caught  and  scattered 
by  the  wind.  At  rare  intervals  they  caught  glimpses, 
far  astern,  of  dancing  lights  which  they  knew  to  be  on 
board  the  Petrel.  But  the  lights  seemed  to  bear 
away,  more  and  more,  toward  the  eastward.  And,  at 
last,  they  could  be  seen  no  more.  The  Lurline  might 
have  been  alone  upon  that  storm-tossed  sea. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  LURID   LIGHT  UPON  THE  SEA 

EVEN  as  the  lights  of  the  other  yacht  vanished, 
Captain  McGreal  put  the  silver  trumpet  to 
his  lips  and  shouted  another  order: 

"Forrard  there!  Mr.  Andressen!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  came  back,  very  faintly. 

"Get  the  sails  off  her!"  And  at  the  same  moment 
the  captain  rang  the  engineer's  bell  for  half  speed. 

The  sails  came  down  with  a  run,  were  sheeted 
home,  and  the  booms  made  fast  inboard.  McGreal 
made  his  way  back  to  where  Allison  and  Wentworth 
stood  close  together.  The  wind  was  a  full  gale,  and 
as  the  angry  seas  rose  behind  the  yacht  each  one 
seemed  to  threaten  to  engulf  her  in  a  streaming  body 
of  green  fire.  But  the  Lurline,  with  the  way  on  her 
that  was  just  safe  to  carry,  rode  among  them  like  a 
storm  bird  that  shakes  the  wave  crests  from  its  tail. 
And  the  seas  fell  back  behind  her  with  a  hollow 
gurgle  into  the  dark  and  hungry  cavities  of  the  deep. 

"She  handles  beautifully,  sir,"  said  the  captain, 
coming  up  to  where  the  two  friends  stood  close  be 
side  the  man  at  the  wheel.  He  almost  screamed  to 
make  himself  heard  above  the  roaring  of  the  tempest: 
"She  handles  beautifully!" 

176 


A  LURID  LIGHT  UPON  THE  SEA     177 

"Aye!  She  is  worth  all  that  she  cost,"  shouted 
Allison,  in  reply. 

"If  we  can  hold  her  so,  sir,  with  just  this  way  upon 
her,  she  will  ride  it  out!"  cried  McGreal. 

*'If  it  comes  on  to  blow  no  harder!"  shrieked 
Went  worth. 

McGreal  shook  his  head  at  that.  And  then,  as  if 
to  change  the  subject:  "That  fellow  behind  is 
gone!"  he  yelled.  "Maybe  he  wants  to  try  for 
Changwa!  The  lee  of  the  point  in  there  would  give 
some  protection,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder!" 

"Could  we  make  it?"  cried  Allison. 

"I'll  keep  to  the  open!"  shouted  McGreal,  to  that. 
"It  is  bad  holding  ground  anywhere  inside  here, 
and  hard  to  get  in  without  a  pilot.  As  long  as  this 
holds  as  it  is,  we'll  do." 

"But  I  think  it  is  getting  worse!"  yelled  Allison. 

"Worse?  Of  course.  But,  at  that,  it  is  better 
than  failing  to  make  around  the  point,  or  dragging 
on  a  lee  shore.  God  help  him  if  he  does  not  give 
himself  plenty  of  room  as  he  runs  in ! " 

The  captain  was  turning  away  when  he  caught 
these  words  from  Wentworth,  "And  God  help  the 
women!" 

"The  women?  I  believe  you!  God  have  mercy 
on  all  women  at  sea  in  a  typhoon!" 

For  the  gale  had  become  a  typhoon.  There  was 
no  longer  any  doubt  of  that.  No  other  wind  that 
blows  across  the  globe  could  have  been  strong  enough 
to  raise  those  sullen,  angry  seas,  rushing  on  like  ranges 


178  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

of  mountains  in  swift  motion,  and  roaring  as  they 
ran.  No  other  wind  could  have  held  in  its  belly  so 
much  of  shrieking  and  wailing  as  of  lost  souls;  no 
other  wind  could  have  made  men  in  a  stanch  ship 
cling  to  ropes  and  stanchions  as  for  their  lives;  whip 
ping  them,  as  they  clung,  with  a  thousand  furious 
lashes;  stinging  their  faces  and  hands  with  the  cut 
ting  edges  of  blown  water  drops  that  pierced  like 
little  knives,  driving  them  to  shelter  in  any  nook  of 
cover  that  offered  even  the  slightest  protection. 

Wentworth,  as  the  fury  of  the  wind  beat  upon  him, 
sent  up  a  prayer  to  his  God  for  the  safety  of  the 
woman  that  he  loved,  abroad  on  the  sea  somewhere 
in  that  storm,  sent  up  a  prayer  because  he  loved  her 
although  in  his  heart  he  was  not  sure  whether  she 
loved  or  hated  him.  It  was  all  that  he  could  do  for 
her.  And  no  more  could  any  man  have  done  amidst 
that  elemental  fury.  For  a  man  is  very  helpless  in  a 
storm  at  sea. 

The  Lurline,  stripped  bare,  her  engines  working 
at  half  speed,  and,  at  that,  with  her  screw  racing 
madly  more  than  half  the  time,  was  in  the  storm's 
grasp.  She  had  not  the  power  to  lie  to  and  face  it; 
and  any  attempt  to  get  canvas  on  her  would  have 
been  an  invitation  to  disaster.  The  men  in  her  could 
do  no  more.  They  must  even  let  her  drive  as  she 
would,  and  pray  that  she  might  be  driven  into  the 
open  sea  to  the  northward,  where  lay  their  surest 
warrant  of  safety. 

Both  Allison  and  Wentworth,  grasping  stanchions 


A  LURID  LIGHT  UPON  THE  SEA     179 

aft  that  had  held  up  the  cabin  awning,  stood  close 
beside  the  steersman  in  awed  wonder  at  the  running 
of  the  wind  and  the  waves.  They  stood  there,  un 
conscious  of  the  passage  of  the  time,  with  no  thought 
of  weariness,  for  hours.  The  whole  black  darkness 
of  the  wide  world  was  about  them.  They  could 
scarcely  make  out  each  other's  forms  as  they  stood, 
save  when  a  luminous  wave,  greater  than  the  rest, 
arose  and  ran  behind  them  for  a  moment,  threat 
ening,  as  it  mounted  high  and  higher,  to  fall  upon  the 
yacht's  deck. 

It  was  by  one  of  these  pale  flashes  from  the  sea 
that  Wentworth  noted  the  steward,  Di  Sousa.  The 
man  stood  on  deck,  pallid  with  fear,  clinging  to  a 
stanchion  as  a  dying  man  clings  to  his  last  hope  of 
life.  Wentworth  could  see  that  his  face,  ghastly 
green  in  that  weird  light,  was  working  strangely; 
that  his  lips  moved,  trembling,  as  one  who  says 
prayers  for  the  dying  when  the  hand  of  the  White 
Terror  reaches  out  to  grip  his  own  heart. 

And  then,  with  a  quick  revulsion,  Wentworth 
smiled,  even  in  the  face  of  the  man's  terror,  and 
amidst  that  appalling  commotion  of  wind  and  sea. 
For  he  could  see  that  Di  Sousa  had  loosened  the 
tether  of  his  red  game  cock  and  now  held  the  bird 
fast  under  one  arm  even  while  the  grim  terror  for 
his  own  life  held  him. 

Out  of  the  darkness  forward,  at  that  instant,  the 
captain  came  staggering,  clinging  to  the  rail  for  sup 
port. 


180  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"We  can  do  no  more,  sir!"  he  screamed,  close  to 
Wentworth's  ear.  "Pray  that  the  engine  does  not 
buck!" 

Then,  in  a  second  afterward:  "God  Almighty!" 
he  shrieked,  in  a  voice  audible  even  above  the  roar 
ing  of  the  typhoon.  "God  Almighty!  What  is 
that?" 

Close  astern  of  the  yacht  at  that  moment,  almost, 
as  if  it  came  to  devour  the  Lurline,  a  great  sheet  of 
flame  leaped  out  of  the  black  depths  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  STEAMER   ON  FIRE 

INSTANTLY,  the  Lurline  was  set  in  the  cen 
tre  of  a  sea  whose  great  waves  came  leaping 
onward  in  running  flame,  to  die  away,  as 
flame  dies  into  black  cinders,  in  the  wild  darkness 
ahead.  The  clouds,  plunging  through  the  upper 
spaces,  close  down,  flung  their  changing  shapes  into 
the  picture,  glowed  for  a  moment  in  the  baleful  light, 
and  then  hurried  on  to  be  swallowed  in  the  shadows. 
The  whole  fearful  night  was  driving  ahead  with  the 
yacht,  that  sped  on  through  the  hissing  seas.  And  the 
fire  pursued  the  night,  and  seemed  to  gain  upon  it. 

One  point,  dead  astern,  gleamed  bright  and  bright 
er  as  the  flame  came  on  across  the  water.  On  the  deck 
of  the  Lurline  every  living  man  watched  with  pallid 
face  for  the  thing  all  knew  would  burst  out  from 
that  bright  spot,  watched  and  dreaded  the  coming  of 
what  was  sure  to  come.  The  Malay  boy,  standing 
bare-headed  at  the  wheel,  his  long  hair  streaming 
about  his  face,  holding  the  Lurline  as  only  a  skilled 
seaman  could  among  the  low  valleys  of  the  tremen 
dous  waves  that  each  instant  arose  and  threatened  to 
beat  her  down,  cast  more  than  one  glance  astern  to 
where  the  centre  of  that  weird  fire  glowed. 

181 


182  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Wentworth,  looking  about  him  at  the  little  group 
gathered  on  the  after  deck,  Allison,  McGreal,  Di 
Sousa  with  the  chicken  under  his  arm,  the  man  at  the 
wheel,  noted  that  each  stood  with  white  terror  on  his 
face,  with  mouth  half  open,  like  men  who  strain  their 
bodies  to  the  point  of  physical  exhaustion,  and  pant 
for  breath.  Forward,  where  every  bolt  and  rope  and 
pulley  in  the  LurUm's  rigging  was  marked  out 
plainly,  the  men  on  deck  had  caught  the  same  expres 
sion;  so  they  stood,  fixed,  in  the  attitude  in  which  the 
light  of  the  fire  had  found  them.  One  who  had 
lashed  himself  face  down  along  the  main  boom,  in  fear 
that  some  sea  more  mountainous  than  the  rest  would 
sweep  him  overboard,  had  lifted  his  head  and  now 
stared  astern  with  open  mouth  and  protruding  eyes. 
He  looked  as  a  turtle  might  to  which  something  inex 
pressibly  surprising  had  happened. 

Wentworth,  glancing  hastily  at  Allison  after  one 
look  at  this  man,  saw  the  answering  smile  that  told 
him  the  same  absurd  notion  had  crossed  the  mind  of 
his  friend  in  the  thick  of  that  tragic  moment,  and 
yet  Wentworth  had  never  for  one  instant  lost  con 
sciousness  of  that  baleful  fire  which  came  rushing  on 
across  the  sea;  nor  lost  one  jot  of  the  terror  that 
swept  his  soul  as  the  flames  came  nearer.  He  had 
caught  Allison's  smile,  the  manner  and  expression 
of  the  lashed  sailor,  merely  as  in  a  flash.  He  was, 
and  knew  himself  to  be,  a  component  part  of  the 
same  picture.  Allison's  whimsical  smile,  answering 
to  his  own,  was  as  fleeting  as  the  rest.  The  realities 


THE  STEAMER  ON  FIRE  183 

of  that  night  were  the  storm,  and  the  darkness,  and 
the  wild  flame  that  had  leaped  out  of  the  sea. 

Then  from  the  very  middle  of  the  brightness 
astern  broke  a  shower  of  sparks  and  there  could  be 
seen,  for  a  moment,  billows  of  fiery  smoke  that  rolled 
upward  to  be  swept  along  swiftly  with  the  flying 
clouds.  And  a  black  spot  came  out  of  the  sea  which 
shaped  itself,  almost  instantly,  as  a  great  ship  rush 
ing  toward  the  Lurline  sending  before  it  as  it  came 
red  banners  of  flame  that  streamed  far  across  the 
waves. 

It  was  God's  power  of  destruction  sent  down 
swiftly  on  the  work  of  men.  The  terror  that  had 
struck  to  the  souls  of  those  on  the  Lurline  when  they 
first  saw  that  awful  light  upon  the  sea  had  been  so 
deep  that  it  had  deprived  them  of  the  power  of 
speech.  With  the  actual  coming  of  the  ship  into  the 
picture  there  grew  out  of  their  terror  a  human  pity 
for  those  other  men  in  peril  on  the  deep.  The  parted 
lips  closed,  and  in  more  than  one  pair  of  eyes  there 
came  a  sudden  dimness  through  which  the  fearful 
fire  burned  faintly. 

But  with  pity  came  back  the  power  of  speech,  and 
those  who  looked  on  God's  artistry  in  that  awful 
picture  were  moved  in  speech  only  by  the  sentiments 
of  their  poor  humanity.  With  a  long,  shuddering 
catch  of  his  breath,  Captain  McGreal  turned  to 
Allison  and  Wentworth,  voicing  the  obvious,  as  a 
man  will  in  his  times  of  deepest  feeling. 

"A  steamer  on  fire!"  he  shouted.     "She  is  driving 


184  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

down  before  the  storm  and  the  sea  with  her  engines 
at  full  speed." 

"And  we  can  do  nothing  to  help!"  cried  Went- 
worth.  "My  God,  is  there  no  way?" 

"No  way!"  repeated  McGreal.  It  sounded  like  a 
mocking  echo  in  the  storm  wind. 

"No  boat  could  live  in  this  sea,"  Allison  said,  as 
if  to  bear  the  others  out,  explaining  to  them  all  their 
own  failure  to  take  action. 

The  burning  steamer  came  on,  fast  and  faster. 
She  was  dead  astern  of  the  Lurline.  Those  on  the 
deck  of  the  yacht  could  feel  the  wind  from  her  burn 
ing  hull,  ten  times  hotter  than  the  typhoon's  breath, 
sweeping  in  scorching  gusts  ahead  of  her.  Driven 
by  the  gale  and  the  sea,  driving  at  the  same  time  with 
all  the  power  that  her  makers  had  given  her,  it 
seemed  for  a  little  time  as  though  she  would  run 
the  yacht  down  bodily.  Sparks  and  cinders  fell  all 
about  the  little  group  on  the  poop  deck  of  the  Lurline, 
and  rained  a  scattering  shower  forward.  Even  above 
the  roaring  of  the  wind  and  the  clamouring  of  the 
waters  there  came  a  sharp  hissing  as  the  burning 
particles  struck  the  surface  of  the  waves. 

Once  there  was  heard  a  sharp,  unearthly  squawk, 
and  the  muttered  word,  "Carramba!" 

The  steward,  Di  Sousa,  could  be  seen  in  the  glare 
to  beat  down  and  beat  out  on  the  yacht's  deck  a 
living  coal  that  had  scorched  the  feathers  and 
burned  the  flesh  of  the  red  game  cock  which  he  still 
held  tightly  clasped  under  one  arm. 


THE  STEAMER  ON  FIRE  185 

It  may  have  been  that  the  smell  of  the  burning 
feathers  checked  in  more  than  one  of  the  little  group 
who  watched  a  momentary  hysterical  desire  to 
laugh. 

Still,  out  of  the  red  flame  that  covered  all  the  sea 
and  sky  astern  of  the  Lurline,  the  burning  steamer 
rushed  on  into  the  darkness  that  loomed  ahead.  It 
was  seen,  after  the  first  thrilling  moment  when  it  had 
been  feared  that  she  would  run  the  yacht  down,  that 
her  course  would  carry  her  a  little  ahead  and  across 
the  bows  of  the  smaller  craft.  It  was  the  last  good 
fortune.  Neither  vessel,  in  that  wind  and  sea,  could 
have  changed  by  one  hair's  breadth  the  direction  in 
which  she  was  hurried. 

The  burning  steamer,  driving  on  with  a  swiftness 
almost  past  belief,  came  down  and  passed  the  Lurline 
not  more  than  forty  feet  away.  As  she  passed,  those 
on  the  deck  of  the  yacht  caught  a  glimpse  of  two 
men  on  the  bridge  of  her,  forward  of  the  wheelhouse, 
with  great  waves  of  flame  sweeping,  as  it  seemed, 
right  out  from  under  their  feet,  to  stream  far  ahead 
and  break  over  the  sea  in  a  rain  of  fiery  sparks. 
They  saw  that  these  two  men,  muffled  in  storm  coats, 
stood  looking  ahead,  stiff  and  stolid,  like  soldiers,  on 
parade,  making  not  the  least  gesture  as  the  doomed 
vessel  rushed  forward. 

A  momentary  backward  eddy  of  smoke  hid  from 
the  watchers  the  name  of  the  steamer,  painted  along 
the  side  of  the  wheelhouse,  but  they  caught  the 
passing  picture  of  the  tense,  white  face  of  the  man  at 


186  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

the  wheel  through  the  open  window,  seen  in  a  frame 
of  whirling  vapour.  And  there  was  a  long  row  of 
the  faces  of  men  lining  the  low  rail  of  the  vessel  amid 
ships  in  the  semi-darkness  abaft  the  blaze.  They 
leaned  along  the  rail,  pale,  motionless,  with  a  set 
rigidity  of  feature. 

One  of  them  held  a  short  pipe  between  his  teeth, 
although  there  were  none  of  the  lip  motions  of  the 
smoker  to  be  seen.  And  their  faces  were  like  the 
faces  of  a  row  of  the  dead  in  a  picture. 

And  then,  on  a  coil  of  heavy  rope  at  the  very  stern 
of  her,  farthest  away  from  the  fire,  a  small  boy  sat, 
alone — and  raised  his  face  to  look  down  with  a  speech 
less  appeal  for  pity  from  the  men  on  the  deck  of  the 
yacht  as  the  burning  ship  swept  along.  He  had  been 
weeping.  The  men  on  the  Lurline  could  see  so 
much,  even  in  the  shadow  that  half  covered  him. 
And  that  mercy  of  facile  expression  that  is  given  to 
a  child  prompted  him  to  hold  out  his  feeble  hands 
and,  as  he  was  swept  onward  with  the  rush  of  the 
burning  steamer,  to  wave  one  gesture  as  of  a  last 
farewell.  Then  he  dropped  his  face  once  more. 

So  the  bits  in  the  fire  picture  shifted,  and  the  gaze 
of  the  Lurline's  crew  must  be  set  forward  now  to 
follow  the  panorama.  They  failed,  in  the  shadow, 
to  make  out  the  name  on  the  ship's  stern.  But  they 
heard,  as  the  steamer  passed  them,  the  beating  of 
her  screw  against  the  waters.  Her  double  funnels 
vomited  dense  masses  of  smoke  that  were  swept 
forward  to  mingle  with  the  smoke  from  her  own  burn- 


THE  STEAMER  ON  FIRE  187 

ing.  And  she  was  driving  with  the  storm  and  being 
driven  by  her  own  engines — whither? 

They  watched  her  while  the  light  that  she  threw 
ahead  on  sea  and  sky  seemed  opening  for  her  a  path 
into  hell  through  the  storm's  darkness.  And  then 
McGreal  turned  to  the  two  friends  who  stood  close 
together  on  the  yacht's  deck  in  that  time  of  tragedy. 
He  raised  the  silver  speaking  trumpet  to  his  lips  as  a 
man  who  performs  some  solemn  right  associated  with 
the  dead. 

"That  was  the  Neried!"  he  shouted. 


CHAPTER  XXH 

INTO   THE   DARKNESS 

WENTWORTH,  grasping  the  awning  stanch 
ion  by  which  he  had  held  on  during  the 
fury  of  the  storm,  still  grasping  it  during 
the  time  that  the  burning  ship  was  hurried  by,  all  but 
faulted  at  the  words.  But  Allison  turned  on  McGreal 
savagely. 

"You  lie!"  he  screamed.  "You  did  not  see  the 
name!" 

"I  know  the  ship,  sir."  McGreal  said  no  more 
than  that. 

The  Neried!  Then  one  of  those  men  on  her  bridge 
had  been  Captain  Graeme !  And  the  other?  Went- 
worth  felt  a  wild  desire  to  laugh,  and  knew  that  mad 
ness  lay  beyond  that.  The  other  man  must  have 
been  his  father — or  the  Englishman?  The  Neried! 
And  she  was  on  fire,  and  driving  fast  to  her  doom 
before  the  fury  of  the  tempest!  Hope,  then,  was 
dead.  What  did  it  all  matter,  now?  His  father 
gone!  The  yacht  that  he  believed  held  the  woman 
that  he  loved  carried  away  in  the  storm!  Disgrace, 
love,  sorrow,  his  own  honour,  and  his  father's  good 
name — all  would  be  swallowed  up  in  the  catastrophe 
that  was  hastening  to  its  conclusion;  that  was  all  but 

188 


INTO  THE  DARKNESS  189 

at  hand.  For  the  men  on  that  burning  ship  there 
could  be  no  salvation  in  this  world!  For  those  who 
still  fronted  the  typhoon  in  a  frail  yacht  perhaps  as 
little  hope.  It  was  all  a  transitory  part  of  the  weak 
futility  of  human  endeavour. 

And  then  anger  succeeded  despair,  and  he  leaped 
away  from  the  supporting  stanchion,  forgetting  the 
unstable  and  dangerous  footing  afforded  by  the  heav 
ing  deck,  to  confront  McGreal.  More  by  instinct 
than  because  of  any  conscious  desire  to  save  himself, 
he  caught,  as  he  leaped,  at  the  after  rail  of  the  vessel. 

"Follow  her!"  he  yelled,  shaking  his  fist  in  the 
face  of  the  sailing  master.  "Follow  that  burning 
ship!  Damn  you,  I  tell  you,  follow  her!" 

The  sailor  looked  at  him,  a  deep  pity  in  his  eyes. 
It  was  remarkable,  although  not  remarked,  that  all 
through  the  trying  scenes  which  the  flames  from  the 
burning  steamer  illuminated  on  the  deck  of  the 
Lurline,  McGreal  lost  neither  his  head  nor  his  temper. 
And  yet  the  terror  grasped  him,  as  it  grasped  the 
others. 

"We  are  following  her  very  swiftly,  sir,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "The  wind  and  the  seas  and  our  own  power 
drive  us  fast  on  the  same  course." 

"Where?"  shrieked  Went  worth.  He  was  mad, 
for  the  moment,  with  the  passion  that  swayed  him. 

" God  knows,  sir!  I  pray  that  it  may  not  be  some 
where  on  the  rocky  shores  of  Formosa." 

Still,  far  ahead,  the  glare  from  the  burning  ship  lit 
up  the  sky,  and  her  masts  and  spars  and  hull  could 


190  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

be  seen  marked  out  black  against  the  flames  as  she 
swept  on,  fast  followed  by  the  fiery  seas.  And  the 
Lurline  followed  likewise,  although  the  steamer 
gained.  The  powerful  engines  of  the  Neried,  kept 
at  full  speed  for  very  desperation,  had  the  greater 
driving  power,  and  her  larger  hull  gave  sea  and  wind 
more  surface  for  their  play.  But  to  those  who 
watched  from  the  Lurline  it  seemed  that  a  rope  of 
glowing  flame  was  drawing  the  larger  vessel  fast  and 
faster  away  from  them.  The  yacht  held  after  the 
red  glare  in  sea  and  sky,  but  it  grew  fainter. 

And  then,  suddenly,  with  one  great  leap  of  flame 
almost  to  the  zenith,  it  flickered  and  went  out,  as 
the  flame  leaves  a  candle  extinguished  by  the  wind. 
For  several  minutes  the  glare  of  the  fire,  as  seen  from 
the  yacht,  had  been  perceptibly  lessening.  That 
was  the  natural  effect  of  the  burning  ship  running 
away  fast  across  the  sea.  But  this  sudden  quench 
ing  of  the  fire  was  no  natural  part  of  any  such  running. 
It  was,  rather,  as  if  some  monster  wave  had  whelmed 
the  steamer,  a  startling  thing,  leaving  in  the  eyes 
of  those  who  watched  a  momentary  sensation  of 
pain. 

For  a  little  time  no  one  in  the  group  on  the  after 
deck  of  the  Lurline  made  any  movement  or  remark. 
They  stood  staring  into  the  darkness,  where  the  light 
had  vanished.  And  then  Allison,  with  some  effort, 
struggled  across  the  deck  to  where  McGreal  and 
Wentworth  stood  close  together.  The  heads  of  all 
three  were  bared  to  the  storm. 


INTO  THE  DARKNESS  191 

"God  rest  them,'*  Allison  heard  McGreal  say, 
in  a  hoarse  voice. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  three  men  clung,  close  to 
gether,  to  the  after  rail.  It  may  have  been  that, 
with  the  passing  of  the  danger  that  had  beset  the 
steamer's  people  into  a  catastrophe,  a  sense  of  their 
own  imminent  peril  settled  back  upon  those  of  the 
Lurline.  The  three  men  remained  for  a  long  time 
silent,  clinging  morally  to  the  mere  fact  of  each 
other's  presence. 

Allison  was  the  first  to  speak,  after  that  brief 
prayer  from  the  lips  of  the  sailor.  He  put  his  hands 
to  his  mouth,  after  the  manner  of  a  speaking  trumpet, 
sending  his  voice  thus  more  surely  to  the  ears  of  the 
other  two. 

"It  is  the  end,"  he  said. 

"It  is  the  end,"  replied  Wentworth,  and  the  shud 
der  that  swept  through  his  heart  was  in  the  shaking 
voice  with  which  he  echoed  the  words. 

McGreal  stood  silent.  His  head  was  bent  forward. 
He  was  in  the  attitude  of  one  listening.  But  the 
words  of  the  others  had  passed  him.  Whatever 
it  was  that  he  hearkened  for  was  at  a  great  distance 
— and  he  seemed  fearful  of  what  he  heard.  White 
fear,  indeed,  was  in  his  face,  a  deeper  fear  than  either 
of  these  two  men,  his  companions,  had  seen  there 
yet.  And  still  he  listened,  and  seemed  to  try  and  to 
dread,  at  once,  to  catch  some  sound  that  would  sepa 
rate  itself  and  be  distinctly  apart  in  the  night  from  the 
voices  of  the  storm  wind  and  the  storm-tossed  sea. 


192  THE  TYHPOON'S  SECRET 

He  caught  the  sound,  at  last,  and  there  was  con 
tagion  in  it,  for  every  soul  aboard  the  Lurline  heard 
it  in  the  next  second.  It  was  a  deep,  sullen  roaring, 
falling  at  intervals  into  the  storm's  clamour,  as  the 
booming  of  great  guns  in  a  distant  battle  will  make 
itself  heard  across  the  lighter  and  sharper  rattle  of 
the  volley  firing.  And  there  came  a  hail  from  the 
lookout  forward,  heard  but  indistinctly,  and  Mc- 
Greal  pointed  ahead  into  the  darkness  to  where  a 
long,  irregular,  changing  line  of  white  ran  right 
away  across  the  inky  surface  of  the  sea  in  the 
yacht's  path.  He  shouted,  as  he  pointed,  one 
word:  "Breakers!" 


CHAPTER    XXIH 

THE    MENACE    OF    THE    SEA AND    SAFETY 

INSTINCTIVELY,  as  he  pointed,  McGreal  leaped 
forward  to  touch  the  bell  on  the  poop  rail  and 
signal  to  the  engineer  to  stop.  But  he  did  not 
give  the  signal.  The  thought  came  to  him  that, 
driven  on  before  the  sea  and  the  storm,  the  yacht 
could  not  change  her  course  to  avoid  the  danger 
ahead  save  at  the  cost  of  instant  destruction.  To 
have  stopped  the  engine,  and  so  destroyed  the  meas 
ure  of  control  the  men  in  her  still  held  over  her  move 
ments,  would  have  caused  her  inevitably  to  roll  over 
and  swamp  in  the  seas.  And  she  must  even  drive 
on  as  she  was  going. 

Near  the  breakers  came  and  nearer.  Their  sullen 
booming,  in  a  moment,  seemed  to  fall  upon  and 
drown  the  whole  wild  clamour  of  the  night.  The 
long  white  line,  tinged  with  pale-green  flame,  defined 
itself  in  the  darkness  as  a  seething  mass  of  troubled 
water  rising  to  heights  that  seemed  mountainous. 
Stretching  away  on  either  side  as  far  as  a  man  might 
see,  there  was  no  end  to  it,  nor  any  visible  break  in 
the  line.  And  peer  as  they  would  into  the  blackness 
beyond,  those  on  the  Lurline  could  detect  no  loom 
of  shore  behind  the  breakers. 

198 


194  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

And  each  man  stood — waiting!  It  was  as  though 
each  felt  resting  on  him  the  touch  of  death,  and 
would  face  the  destroyer  with  the  courage  of  quick 
manhood  strung  to  tension.  There  could  be  no 
escape !  In  the  hands  of  a  power  greater  than  human 
they  were  borne  onward  swiftly  to  their  destruction. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  sublime  sarcasm  which  is  en 
wrapped  about  the  destinies  of  men  that  while  they 
were  thus  carried  forward  swiftly  to  their  doom  by 
the  restless  invisible,  the  feeble  throbbing  of  the 
yacht's  own  engine  beat  steadily  to  help  them  along 
the  appointed  way. 

The  steersman,  straining  with  all  his  muscular 
might  to  ease  the  yacht  among  the  running  seas, 
as  by  an  instinct  continued  to  perform  the  duty 
laid  on  him.  The  little  group  on  the  after  deck, 
silent,  expectant,  watchful,  noted  this.  They  might 
have  caught  inspiration  from  the  mere  mechanics 
of  it.  Wentworth,  at  last,  reached  out  his  right 
hand — and  it  met  the  right  hand  of  Allison.  The 
Eurasian,  Di  Sousa,  smoothed  the  feathers  on  the 
head  and  neck  of  his  red  game  cock,  and  soothed 
it  with  a  low,  affectionate  crooning  in  Portu 
guese. 

McGreal  still  stood  at  the  break  of  the  poop,  where 
he  had  leaped  to  touch  the  engine  bell,  shading  his 
eyes,  straining  them  forward  into  the  darkness  beyond 
the  breakers.  He  waited,  as  they  all  did,  for  the 
crash  that  would  tell  him  that  the  Lurline  had  found 
her  grave.  But,  like  a  true  sailor,  he  still  sought  a 


THE  MENACE  OF  THE  SEA          195 

way  to  safety  while  relentless  danger  seemed  closing 
every  avenue  against  him. 

The  yacht  rushed  on.  Almost,  it  seemed,  the 
white  line  of  the  phosphorescent  surf  was  under  her 
forefoot.  They  could  see  the  foam  running  back 
ward  as  the  great  waves  broke,  spreading  a  fiery 
pattern  as  of  hell's  carpet  over  the  black  surface 
of  the  sea.  And  still  rushing  out  of  the  darkness 
behind  them  the  tremendous  seas  drove  the  Lurline 
on;  and  the  wind  was  the  spur  of  the  powers  of  the 
upper  air.  It  seemed  as  if  the  demons  of  the  under 
sea  and  of  the  gale,  holding  the  yacht  in  their  grasp, 
shook  her  hi  the  madness  of  their  wicked  glee,  with 
such  tremendous  ferocity  did  the  wind  and  the  waves 
tear  at  her;  hurl  her  forward;  raise  her  aloft;  beat  her 
down,  down  in  smothers  of  white  foam. 

And  now  they  were  so  close  to  the  line  of  breakers 
that  any  one  might  catch  and  toss  their  frail  vessel 
into  that  seething  white  cauldron  that  set  a  boundary 
to  their  lives. 

And  then!  So  quickly  did  the  change  come  that 
the  extremity  of  peril  was  met  and  passed  before 
either  Wentworth  or  Allison  realized  that  death 
had  swooped,  and  missed  the  stroke.  It  was  only 
McGreal,  who  leaped  backward  from  the  poop  rail, 
put  his  silver  trumpet  to  his  lips  and  bawled  an  order 
almost  into  the  ear  of  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

"Port!  "he  yelled. 

The  yacht,  rushing  on  through  the  water,  trembled, 
but  answered  to  the  touch.  Her  sheer  side  just 


196  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

shaved  the  jagged  point  of  a  rock  a  running  wave 
revealed — and  hid.  Then  the  little  vessel  was  caught 
on  the  very  crest  of  the  next  great  wave  and  car 
ried  forward  at  the  dizzy  speed  of  a  racing  motor  in 
full  career. 

"Starboard!'*  yelled  McGreal,  dancing  up  and 
down  in  his  excitement.  "  Hard-a-starboard !  Hold 
her !  Port !  Now,  let  her  go  off ! " 

He  jumped  to  the  poop  rail  once  more,  and  gave 
the  engineer  the  jingle  bell.  The  Lurline  seemed  to 
tear  through  the  fiery  green-white  foam  in  a  series 
of  desperate  leaps,  and  ran  into  still,  dark  water 
where  only  moderate  seas  followed  her  and  drove 
on  fast  before  the  sweep  of  the  rushing  wind.  The 
tremendous  uproar  of  the  breakers  was  all  astern. 

The  captain  tapped  the  bell  again  for  half  speed, 
and,  in  an  easy  sea,  the  Lurline  went  forward,  just 
feeling  her  way.  But  the  white  line  of  the  reef  was 
behind  her,  and  the  fiery  pattern  of  phosphorescent 
carpet  grew  fainter  in  its  changing  lines  as  it  receded. 

"Forrard  there!"  cried  McGreal,  paying  no  further 
heed  to  danger  past. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  came  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness 
on  the  main  deck. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Andressen?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Get  out  the  sounding  lead,  there!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir." 

In  the  next  moment  the  voice  of  the  leadsman  was 
floating  out  into  the  night  as  he  threw  the  line,  and 


THE  MENACE  OF  THE  SEA          197 

the  words  were  taken  up  by  the  strong  voice  of  the 
mate,  and  so  carried  backward  to  the  group  on  the 
after  deck. 

"N-o-o-o  bottom!" 

"No  bottom,  sir." 

"Fifteen  fathom!" 

"Fifteen  fathom,  sir." 

"  Sca-a-ant  twelve ! " 

"Scant  twelve,  sir." 

"Six  fathom!" 

"Six  it  is,  sir." 

"Five  fathom!    Easy  five,  and  shoaling,  sir!" 

"Forrard  there!"  yelled  the  captain  at  that,  with 
out  waiting  for  the  mate's  voice,  and  touching  the 
bell  at  the  same  time  to  stop  the  engine.  "Get  out 
that  port  anchor,  Mr.  Andressen!  Lively,  now!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

The  chugging  of  the  exhaust  ceased.  There  was  a 
sharp  rattling  of  chains.  And  the  Lurline,  in  the 
next  moment,  swung  around  by  the  port  side  and 
came  easily  to  a  stop  with  the  full  sweep  of  the  wind 
hitting  her  in  the  nose.  But  the  gale  had  lost  much 
of  the  force  that  it  had  outside;  she  was  in  shoal 
water,  with  a  sand  bottom,  and  the  sea  was  running 
down. 

"Get  the  starboard  anchor  over,  Mr.  Andressen!" 
cried  the  captain. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir." 

Again  the  chains  rattled  out.  The  second  mud 
hook  caught.  And  the  Lurline  was  as  safe  as  a  church. 


198  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"She  will  do,  now,"  said  McGreal,  coming  alt 
to  where  Wentworth  and  Allison  still  stood,  their 
right  hands  clasped.  Only  at  that  moment  did 
they  break  the  clasp,  with  some  slight  feeling  of 
shame  it  might  have  been,  and  stand  apart. 

"By  God!"  the  captain  said,  as  he  came  up, 
"that  was  a  close  call,  all  right! " 

"There  did  not  seem  to  be  a  lot  to  spare!"  replied 
Allison. 

He  reached  out  and  shook  hands  with  the  captain 
as  he  spoke,  and  Wentworth  did  the  same  thing  im 
mediately  afterward.  Those  three  men  had  just 
passed,  together,  through  the  only  break  in  the  line 
that  death  had  laid  down  in  their  path.  Out  of 
the  storm  and  the  sea  and  the  darkness  the  Lurline 
had  come,  straight  as  the  arrow  flies,  to  the  one  breach 
in  the  reef  through  which  a  vessel  could  have  passed. 
No  power  below  God's  Providence  had  guided  her  in 
the  time  of  danger.  Wentworth,  after  the  hand 
shake,  turned  to  the  Eurasian  steward. 

"  Go  below  and  make  us  a  cocktail ! "  he  said. 

So  men  cover  the  stirring  of  the  primal  emotions 
with  outward  manifestation  of  the  commonplace. 
After  that  no  one  spoke  for  a  little.  Then  Allison 
asked:  "Where  are  we?" 

"God  only  knows!"  replied  McGreal.  "And  He 
won't  tell  till  daylight — after  which,  He  won't  have 
to.  But  I  should  say  we  were  somewhere  close  in  to 
the  foreshore  of  the  Island  of  Formosa.  We  may 
be  half  a  mile  from  land,  and  we  may  be  ten  miles." 


THE  MENACE  OF  THE  SEA          199 

"We  are  inside  the  reef?"  queried  Allison. 

"We  are  in  the  lee  of  it,  anyhow,"  said  the  captain, 
"and  in  some  kind  of  shelter.  There's  a  vessel's 
riding  light  off  the  port  bow  there.  We  must  have 
just  missed  running  her  down." 

The  two  friends  looked  in  the  direction  indicated 
and,  sure  enough,  a  light  was  dancing  there  at  a  little 
distance  as  the  seas  rose  and  fell.  It  must  have  been, 
as  McGreal  said,  that  the  Lurline  passed  her  close 
as  she  came  rushing  in  to  safety.  Other  men  had 
been  in  peril  on  their  account. 

The  mate,  Mr.  Andressen,  came  on  the  poop  deck 
at  the  moment  and  saluted.  "I  have  sent  the  watch 
below  to  turn  in,  sir,"  he  said.  "There  won't  be 
much  doing  here  till  morning." 

"That  is  right,"  answered  the  captain.  "Where 
do  you  make  out  we  are,  Mr.  Andressen?  You  would 
be  more  used  to  these  seas." 

"I  can't  rightly  say,  sir.  But  there's  a  reef  like 
that  runs  out  from  Tali  Point.  I  have  seen  the  break 
ers  on  it,  passing  close  in  here  on  the  P.  &  O.  boats." 

"That  is  on  Formosa?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"We  are  safe  to  ride  here  till  morning,  then?" 
queried  the  captain. 

"She  is  riding  easily  enough  now,  with  both  hooks 
holding,"  replied  the  mate.  "And  the  wind  is  blow 
ing  itself  out." 

"I  note  that.  We  seem  to  have  found  port  in  a 
storm." 


200  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"It  can't  be  much  of  a  port,  sir,  at  that.  And 
it  won't  be  safe  to  get  too  close  inshore.  The  natives 
are  a  pretty  savage  lot  hereabouts." 

"Japs  haven't  got  'em  tamed  yet,  eh?"  asked 
Went  worth. 

"Why,  sir,"  replied  the  mate,  "the  Japs  hold 
the  towns,  and  the  camphor  camps  close  in  fast 
enough.  There  would  be  a  garrison  in  Tali,  it  is 
likely.  But  five  miles  outside  the  town  a  man  would 
not  be  safe.  And  anywhere  alongshore  between 
military  posts  there  is  danger.  The  native  pirates 
are  as  like  as  not  to  come  swooping  offshore  in  their 
sampans  if  a  vessel  gets  too  close  in  and  falls  into 
stays." 

"Well,  we  could  run  out  with  our  engine,"  said 
Allison. 

"True  enough,  sir,"  agreed  the  mate,  "but  I'd 
not  want  my  life  to  hang  on  the  working  of  a  petrol 
engine.  The  natives  are  not  likely  to  come  off  in 
this  wind." 

He  turned,  as  he  spoke,  to  go  below,  and  McGreal 
addressed  Allison  and  Wentworth : 

"I  would  advise  you  gentlemen  to  get  some  sleep, 
too,"  he  said,  holding  his  watch  to  the  binnacle  light 
to  note  the  time.  "It  is  past  midnight,  and  we  can't 
do  a  thing  until  day  breaks  and  we  find  out  where 
we  are.  I  will  stand  watch,  and  guard  the  ship." 

"You  will  ride  here  until  morning,  of  course?" 
queried  Allison. 

"Sure!"  answered  McGreal.     "There  isn't  any- 


THE  MENACE  OF  THE  SEA          201 

thing  else  to  do.  The  wind  is  dying,  and  the  sea 
begins  to  run  down,  but  we  would  not  dare  venture 
that  reef  in  the  dark.  It  will  be  like  a  mill  pond  here 
by  sunrise." 

When  Wentworth  and  Allison  went  below  they 
found  Di  Sousa  standing  beside  the  cabin  table 
with  two  cocktails  mixed  ready  for  them.  They 
drank,  clinking  glasses,  and  each  turned  toward  his 
own  cabin. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Wentworth,  looking  back  to 
ward  the  steward  as  he  opened  his  own  door,  "that 
the  game  cock  is  safe,  Di  Sousa?  " 

"Sar!"  replied  the  Eurasian,  bowing  most  pro 
foundly,  and  with  a  gratified  smile,  "She  is ! " 

Wentworth  and  Allison  were  called,  by  the  cap 
tain's  order,  at  sunrise.  It  was  a  clear,  warm,  beauti 
ful  morning,  with  not  a  cloud,  and  only  the  breath 
of  a  gentle  south  wind  coming  in  from  the  seaward. 
The  two  friends  came  on  deck  in  pajamas  and  their 
Japanese  bath  slippers. 

The  Lurline,  not  half  a  mile  from  the  curving 
white  beach,  along  which  a  little  ripple  of  surf  rose 
and  fell  gently,  lay  at  anchor  before  a  village  of 
reddish-brown  thatched  huts  standing  like  a  stage 
village  against  the  brilliant  green  of  a  heavily  forested 
mountain  range. 

From  a  tall,  white  staff  in  the  middle  foreground 
the  sun  flag  of  Japan  blazed  in  the  morning  sunshine, 
stealing  down  across  the  tops  of  the  camphor  trees 
on  the  slopes  to  tip  their  new  leaves  with  crimson, 


202  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

and  a  trig  little  Japanese  sentry  walked  up  and  down 
on  the  beach  in  front  of  two  shining  field  pieces  set 
there  with  their  black  mouths  toward  the  sea.  Now 
and  again  a  native  with  tousled  black  hair  would  peer 
out  from  one  of  the  huts,  and  farther  back,  toward 
the  forest  line,  Wentworth  and  Allison  could  see 
woodmen,  shining  axes  over  their  shoulders,  making 
their  way  in  straggling  order  up  the  first  slopes  of  the 
hills — the  camphor  tree  cutters  of  Formosa. 

The  tide  had  turned  to  go  out  in  the  night,  and 
the  Lurline  lay  with  her  bow  toward  the  shore,  the 
whole  white  line  of  the  reef  showing  astern  of  her. 
The  waves  were  breaking  upon  the  rocks,  but  not 
with  the  force  that  had  characterized  them  during 
the  typhoon,  and  the  dark  gap  through  which  the 
yacht  had  run  in  to  safety  during  the  night  showed 
plainly. 

The  two  friends  bade  Captain  McGreal  good  morn 
ing,  and  turned  to  take  in  the  points  of  the  picture. 
It  was  all  very  beautiful:  the  little  sheltered  bay;  the 
curving  shoreline,  running  around  to  a  densely 
wooded  point  on  either  hand;  the  vivid  green  of  the 
camphor  forests  on  the  hills  showing  reddish  tints  on 
the  leaves  where  the  tender  new  shoots  were  spring 
ing.  And  riding  not  one  hundred  yards  away,  on 
the  starboard  quarter,  they  saw  a  trim  green  yacht 
at  anchor. 

"The  Petrel!11  said  McGreal,  in  answer  to  the 
startled  look  both  gave  him  at  the  same  moment. 
"I  suppose  her  captain  knew  this  place,  and  ran 


THE  MENACE  OF  THE  SEA          20S 

for  shelter  before  the  wind  came  on  to  blow  too 
hard." 

Then,  in  a  moment,  those  on  the  Lurline  noted  a 
movement  among  the  seamen  on  the  green  yacht. 
They  had,  up  to  that  time,  been  hanging  over  the 
rail  of  her,  idly  looking  at  the  vessel  which  had  been 
swept  into  the  haven  on  the  wings  of  the  storm. 
Her  captain  had  come  on  deck,  and  given  an  order 
which  was  followed  by  a  boatswain's  whistle  that 
sent  half  a  dozen  men  scuttling  down  the  port  gang 
way  of  her  and  into  the  yawl  which  swung  idly  in 
the  water  there.  The  captain  himself  had  followed 
directly  after  them,  and  had  taken  his  place  at  the 
tiller  of  the  small  boat. 

"She  is  sending  a  boat  to  board  us,"  said  Captain 
McGreal. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AN  ARTIST  IN  COCKTAILS 

PROPELLED  by  six  oars,  the  yawl  came 
through  the  still  water  very  swiftly.  Al 
most,  as  it  seemed,  in  a  moment  after  leav 
ing  the  side  of  the  Petrel  it  was  passing  around  by 
the  stern  of  the  Lurline. 

"Forrard  there!"  cried  McGreal.  "Get  that  port 
gangway  down!  Lively,  now!" 

The  sailors  leaped  to  obey,  just  as  a  hail  came  from 
the  man  in  the  stern  of  the  yawl. 

"Lurline,  ahoy!" 

"Ahoy!"  replied  McGreal,  man-of-war  fashion. 

"I  want  to  come  aboard  you,  sir!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

It  was  all  very  ship-shape  and  proper.  With  that 
answering  shout  from  McGreal  as  a  signal  the  yawl 
shot  alongside  and  the  captain  of  the  Petrel  leaped 
lightly  to  the  platform  and  ran  up  the  gangway.  He 
touched  his  cap  to  Captain  McGreal  as  he  stepped 
on  deck,  and  the  two  shook  hands. 

"Good  morning,  Captain  McGreal!"  the  stranger 
said. 

"Very  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  answered  McGreal, 
"although  you  have  a  little  the  best  of  me." 

204 


AN  ARTIST  IN  COCKTAILS          205 

"Ah!"  replied  the  stranger,  smiling.  "I  cleared 
from  Manila  after  you,  you  see.  I  am  Captain 
Stoddard,  sir,  sailing  master  of  the  Petrel.19 

Wentworth  and  Allison  had  come  down  over  the 
break  of  the  poop,  and  McGreal  introduced  them 
in  due  form. 

"I  am  come  aboard  to  congratulate  you  on  your 
escape  out  of  the  typhoon,"  said  Captain  Stoddard. 

"It  was  a  close  call,"  murmured  McGreal. 

"Aye,  sir,  it  was  that.  And  I  want  to  invite 
you  gentlemen  to  breakfast  on  board  the  Petrel" 
went  on  Captain  Stoddard.  "You  must  be  weary, 
after  the  night  of  stress,  and  may  be  willing  to  let 
your  fellows  try  to  cheer  you  up  a  bit.  I  thought 
you  had  been  safe  to  pass  the  Channel  and  run  out 
into  the  open  sea  when  we  saw  you  come  in  last 
night.  You  just  missed  running  us  down  by  a  hair, 
sir;  and  you  came  so  suddenly  that  I  had  no  time  to 
burn  a  flare.  It  was  a  wonder  of  seamanship  that 
you  made  the  passage  of  the  reef  in  that  gale." 

"It  was  the  hand  of  God!"  replied  McGreal, 
lifting  his  cap  as  he  spoke. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  the  visitor.  "The  burning 
steamer  was  in  the  devil's  hands,  likely,  when  she 
tried  the  passage.  She  struck,  with  a  crash,  a  mile 
below  the  opening — and  winked  out." 

"That  was  the  Neried"  said  McGreal. 

"The  Neried!"  repeated  Captain  Stoddard,  and 
then,  slowly,  as  if  to  himself:  "The  Neried!  It  is 
ended,  then?" 


206  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

He  recovered  from  the  surprise  that  had  made 
him  forget  his  part  for  a  moment,  it  might  have  been, 
and  addressed  himself  again  to  McGreal:  "But 
you  must  have  known  the  passage,  sir?" 

"Neither  reef  nor  passage.  I  was  never  here  in 
my  life,"  replied  the  sailing  master  of  the  Lurline. 

"By  God!  Then,  it  was  the  hand  of  a  Higher 
Power!"  exclaimed  Captain  Stoddard.  "This  For 
mosa  coast  is  treacherous.  I  know  every  inch  of  it. 
But  you  will  come  and  breakfast  aboard?  " 

"With  pleasure,"  replied  McGreal. 

"And  these  gentlemen?"  continued  Captain 
Stoddard.  "  The  ladies  sent  me  with  the  invitation." 

He  had  turned  toward  the  gangway  as  he  spoke. 

"The  ladies!"  exclaimed  Allison.  "None  of  us 
would  disappoint  the  ladies.  We  will  come  across 
as  soon  as  we  can  dress." 

"But  will  you  not  come  into  the  cabin  before 
going  over  the  side,  Captain  Stoddard?"  asked 
Went  worth. 

"By  all  means,"  urged  Allison.  "We  have  no 
ladies  on  board,  but  we  have  the  sailor 's  next  at 
traction.  There  is  a  very  special  whisky  in  her  stores 
and  the  steward  makes  a  cocktail  calculated  to 
make  a  man  weep  from  the  memory  of  it." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  replied  Captain  Stoddard,  turning 
back  as  he  spoke,  "the  fine  art  of  making  cocktails 
is  one  that  has  never  lacked  a  patron  in  me." 

At  that  McGreal  waved  him  to  take  the  lead  up 
the  companionway  running  up  over  the  break  of  the 


AN  ARTIST  IN  COCKTAILS  207 

poop.  The  visitor  was  thus  first  on  the  Lurline's 
quarterdeck,  and  led  the  way  into  her  cabin.  So 
it  fell  out  that  neither  of  his  three  hosts  saw  his  ex 
pression  change,  nor  noted  the  start  he  gave  when 
he  caught  sight  of  the  steward,  Di  Sousa,  standing 
at  the  head  of  the  cabin  table,  nor  did  either  notice 
the  momentary  hesitancy  of  his  step  as  he  put  his 
foot  into  the  cabin.  And,  if  they  had  been  noticed, 
the  start  and  the  hesitation  would  have  been  ascribed 
naturally  to  the  sudden  coming  into  a  strange  place. 

If  the  appearance  of  Stoddard  there  had  any 
effect  on  Di  Sousa,  the  steward  had  better  command 
of  himself  and  did  not  show  it.  It  seemed  to  Went- 
worth  and  Allison,  indeed,  that  the  Eurasian  ex 
celled  himself  in  the  mixture  that  he  achieved  that 
morning.  And  it  may  have  been  that  the  agitation 
of  Captain  Stoddard  found  the  safety  valve  of  an 
outlet  in  the  remark  with  which  he  set  down  his 
glass  after  draining  it. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "it  is  the  most  seductive 
that  I  ever  tasted ! " 

He  drank  another  on  invitation,  but  would  have 
no  more.  "It  would  not  be  safe,"  he  said.  "After 
three  of  them  a  man  might  go  home  and  steal  his 
own  chronometer." 

Moreover,  he  spoke  of  his  duty  to  return  to  the 
ladies  with  an  acceptance  of  their  invitation  to 
breakfast. 

"Speaking  of  the  ladies,  Captain  Stoddard,"  said 
Allison,  "  will  you  give  them  our  apologies  for  remiss- 


208  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

ness  for  failing  to  call  while  we  were  in  Manila?  We 
were  greatly  hurried,  and  we  were  not  aware,  until 
we  got  well  up  into  the  China  Sea,  that  the  Petrel 
was  Miss  Graeme's  yacht." 

It  was  a  shot  with  a  purpose,  and  it  went  home. 
Captain  Stoddard  started,  and  lost  countenance. 
Then  he  got  his  face  back,  laughing  a  little. 

"You  know  the  Petrel  is  Miss  Graeme's  yacht?" 
he  exclaimed.  "  That  was  intended  to  be  a  surprise." 

"We  saw  Miss  Graeme  and  Mrs.  Penworthy  on 
the  deck  of  her  after  you  put  to  sea,"  replied  Allison. 
"We  will  be  very  glad  to  get  a  nearer  view  of  them. 
The  ladies  are  old  friends  of  ours." 

"Well,"  said  Captain  Stoddard,  still  smiling,  "I 
haven't  told  you  anything.  And  it  may  be  that  the 
ladies  will  still  have  a  surprise  for  you  on  board  the 
Petrel!" 

"It  will  be  pleasant,  naturally,"  said  Allison, 
politely. 

"Being  in  the  hands  of  the  ladies,"  agreed  McGreal, 
with  the  gallantry  of  a  true  sailor. 

Captain  Stoddard  smiled,  and  bowed.  "I  must 
leave  you,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  leading  the  way  to 
the  deck.  And  the  next  moment  he  turned  to  shake 
hands  at  the  head  of  the  yacht's  gangway,  at  the 
foot  of  which  his  yawl  rode  lazily. 

"I  want  to  know,"  he  said  to  McGreal  in  a  low 
tone,  almost  at  the  moment  of  leaving,  "whether 
that  chap  has  his  red  game  cock  with  him?  " 

"Di  Sousa?     Why,  yes,"  replied  the  sailing  master 


AN  ARTIST  IN  COCKTAILS  209 

of  the  Lurline.  And  then,  gathering  that  the  ques 
tion  was  a  rather  peculiar  one,  he  asked  in  his  turn: 
"Why  do  you  want  to  know? " 

But  Captain  Stoddard  had  run  down  the  gangway, 
and  leaped  lightly  into  his  yawl.  To  himself,  as  he 
took  the  tiller  ropes  and  ordered  the  men  to  give  way, 
he  muttered:  "I'll  fix  that  damned  spy,  anyhow!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ON  BOARD  THE  GREEN  YACHT 

CAPTAIN  STODDARD  left  the  people  on 
the  Lurline  in  a  very  considerable  flutter. 
Although  neither  Allison  nor  Wentworth 
had  heard  his  last  question,  each  had  enough  from 
the  visit  to  ripple  his  placidity,  and  McGreal,  who 
was  puzzling  himself  principally  over  the  matter  of 
the  game  cock,  had  no  light  upon  it.  And  in  the 
bustle  of  preparation  for  the  breakfast  he  would 
have  no  time  to  question  Di  Sousa.  Also,  there  was 
left  by  Stoddard's  manner  something  of  a  doubt 
in  the  captain's  mind  which  would  have  made  him 
chary  of  speaking  to  his  steward. 

"What  do  you  know  about  that?"  asked  Went 
worth  of  Allison,  as  they  turned  to  go  down  into  the 
cabin  for  their  bath  and  to  dress. 

"Yachting  courtesy,  maybe!"  laughed  Allison. 

"Rot!" 

"That's  what  it  would  be,  under  ordinary  cir 
cumstances,"  agreed  Allison.  "In  this  case,  it 
may  have  the  added  touch  of  a  pretty  woman's  de 
sire  to  be  agreeable  to  people  she  likes." 

"It  is  a  great  deal  more,"  insisted  Wentworth. 
"Why  should  she  follow  us  to  disclose  herself  here, 


ON  BOARD  THE  GREEN  YACHT  211 

when  she  could  have  done  that  so  much  more  easily 
at  Manila?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Allison,  "being  at  this  writing 
of  sound  and  disposing  mind,  I  tell  you,  with  all 
solemnity  and  earnestness,  that  when  it  comes  to 
attempting  to  fathom  the  motives  of  a  woman,  I 
am  always  and  altogether  out  of  my  depth.  But 
we  did  not  give  the  lady  much  of  a  chance  at 
Manila." 

"There  was  chance  enough,  if  she  had  wanted  us 
to  know  that  she  was  in  that  part  of  the  world," 
insisted  Wentworth. 

Allison  smiled,  noting  here  an  unconscious  as 
sertion  of  a  right  to  criticize.  "I  suppose  there  was/' 
he  said.  "And  there  is  this  supposition:  She  left 
us  at  sea,  thought  to  be  safe  and  following  the  Neried. 
She  does  not  know  what  happened  last  night: 
whether  we  have  lost  the  Neried,  or  whether  we  are 
ourselves  in  condition  to  continue  the  chase.  And 
it  may  have  occurred  to  her — it  would  be  obvious 
to  you  and  me — that  when  people  are  hunting  the 
same  quarry  success  is  more  apt  to  crown  united 
effort  made  with  understanding." 

"It  depends  upon  the  purpose  of  each  hunter's 
hunting,  does  it  not?" 

"Somewhat.  But  even  hunters  who  hunt  with 
different  purposes  may  agree  up  to  the  time  of 
finding." 

"Anyway,  the  Neried  is  gone!"  exclaimed  Went 
worth. 


THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Which  fact  is  not  known  to  the  lady  or  will  not 
be  until  Captain  Stoddard  tells  her." 

Each  went  to  his  own  cabin  at  that,  and  within 
half  an  hour  both  were  rowed  with  McGreal  to  the 
Petrel  in  the  Lurline's  yawl,  hailed,  and  were  re 
ceived  at  the  head  of  the  gangway  by  Captain 
Stoddard.  Margaret  Graeme  and  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
Penworthy,  waited  for  them  on  the  after  deck 
where  the  yacht's  sailors  had  already  spread  the 
awning,  and  the  breakfast  was  served  there  in  the 
open  air. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Graeme!"  said  Wentworth 
and  Allison  together,  removing  their  hats  as  they 
stepped  over  the  break  of  the  poop. 

"Welcome  on  board  the  Petrel  /"  she  said,  coming 
forward  with  extended  hand,  to  Allison  first,  and 
smiling  most  graciously.  Very  plainly  Captain 
Stoddard  had  said  nothing  to  her  of  the  loss  of  the 
Neried.  So  the  wise  man  spoils  no  breakfast  but  his 
own. 

Margaret  merely  shook  hands,  as  with  old  friends, 
with  Allison  and  Wentworth.  Her  greeting  of 
McGreal  had  something  more  in  it,  something  of 
graciousness,  something  of  true  womanly  sweetness 
which  put  the  sailorman  at  his  ease  at  once,  awaken 
ing  in  his  mind  that  sense  of  the  superiority  of  the 
male  creature  a  woman  knows  so  well  how  to  arouse. 
It  was  very  cleverly  done.  Allison,  watching  her, 
smiled  at  the  art  of  it.  But  it  was  in  her  manner 
more  than  in  her  words,  for  this  was  all  that  she 


ON  BOARD  THE  GREEN  YACHT  213 

said:  "I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Captain  McGreal. 
We  saw  how  you  ran  the  Lurline  in  last  night. 
A  master  of  the  sea  rules  the  world,  sir.*' 

Mrs.  Penworthy  was  a  little  more  precise  in  her 
greeting,  but  it  was  nothing  to  hurt.  Indeed,  the 
slightly  formal  manner  of  the  elder  woman,  as  a  foil, 
enabled  the  younger  to  carry  off  the  situation  better. 
And  maybe  there  was  art  in  that,  too. 

"Captain  Stoddard  tells  me  that  you  recognized 
us  at  sea,"  Margaret  said,  turning  to  Allison.  "I 
think  you  were  most  impolite  not  to  signal  as  much 
to  us." 

"The  lady  speaks  first,"  replied  Allison,  laughing. 

"I  would  know  you  anywhere  in  the  world,"  said 
Wentworth  in  a  low  tone,  going  very  close  to  her. 
And  she  smiled  at  him,  saying  nothing. 

"Come,  gentlemen,"  she  said  to  the  others,  as 
the  steward  set  a  silver  coffee  urn  on  the  table,  "let 
us  sit  down.  I  have  heard  that  all  men  are  bears 
before  they  have  broken  their  fast.  And  we  are 
most  curious  to  hear  how  you  escaped  the  fury  of 
that  appalling  storm." 

She  took  the  head  of  the  table,  motioning  McGreal 
to  the  foot.  And  then  as  they  sat  she  had  Wentworth 
on  her  right  hand  and  Allison  on  her  left.  Captain 
Stoddard  sat  next  to  Wentworth,  and  Mrs.  Pen- 
worthy  was  beside  Allison. 

And  it  fell  to  Wentworth,  as  it  seemed,  naturally, 
although  it  may  have  been  because  his  powers  of 
description  were  the  best,  to  tell  the  story  of  the 


214  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

storm  and  the  escape,  and  the  thrilling  incident  of 
the  burning  of  the  Neried.  At  that,  indeed,  the 
breakfast  was  all  forgotten,  and  the  breakfast  table 
became  a  mere  ground  for  the  play  of  the  primal 
human  emotions  leaping  out  through  the  torn  veil 
of  the  conventions. 

To  the  three  guests  it  was  an  old  tale.  Told 
at  that  table  solemnly,  and  with  the  feeling  of  a  man 
who  fears  that  he  speaks  of  the  tragic  death  of  his 
own  father,  who  brings  to  a  sister's  heart  the  knowl 
edge  that  her  brother  has  been  swallowed  up  in  the 
uncontrollable  fury  of  the  elements,  it  affected  those 
who  knew  the  tale  with  a  deep  and  quiet  sadness. 
But  to  those  on  board  the  Petrel  it  was  as  the 
tearing  aside  of  the  curtain  of  doom,  a  glimpse 
into  that  abyss  which  waits  always  on  the  feet  of 
men. 

Wentworth,  speaking  in  low  tones,  looking  about 
him  as  he  spoke  with  his  own  eyes  dimmed,  saw 
Margaret  Graeme  go  white,  and  grasp  at  the  top 
of  the  table  as  if  for  support.  He  saw  Mrs.  Pen- 
worthy  slip  down  into  her  chair,  gasping — for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  showing  in  public  that  she  felt 
the  burden  of  her  years.  He  saw  Captain  Stoddard, 
who  had  himself  said  nothing  of  the  loss  of  the  Neried, 
half  start  up,  as  though  he  would  have  stopped  the 
relation,  and  then  subside  into  his  chair,  gathering 
understanding  that  the  tale  was  on  the  lips  of  the 
right  man  to  tell  it. 

Margaret  recovered  self-command  first.     She  was 


ON  BOARD  THE  GREEN  YACHT  215 

the  hostess,  trained  to  the  part,  and  the  younger  of 
the  two  women. 

"The  Neried  gone!"  she  exclaimed.  And  then,  in 
a  tone  so  low  that  Wentworth  scarcely  -caught  the 
words:  "Poor  Robert!" 

Her  eyes  dropped.  It  seemed  that,  for  a  moment, 
she  breathed  a  prayer.  And  then  she  looked,  with 
level  brow,  at  Wentworth. 

"Our  quest  is  at  an  end,  John,"  she  said. 

In  those  few  words  she  told  him  the  tale  of  how 
she  had  followed  him  across  the  sea  to  help  him, 
the  one  man  in  the  world  who  had  made  to  her  the 
deep  appeal  of  the  man  to  her  womanhood.  For 
the  moment  those  others  at  the  table  had  no  ex 
istence,  for  her  or  for  Wentworth. 

"It  is  at  an  end,"  replied  Wentworth.  "My 
father  and  your  brother!  They  are  gone  to  their 
account,  Margaret." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  her  by  that 
name,  as  it  had  been  the  first  time  she  had  addressed 
him  by  his. 

"  May  God  have  mercy ! "  she  said. 

"Amen!"  answered  Wentworth. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"THE  NAVAL  SUPPORTS  ARE  COMING  UP" 

THE  shock  of  the  disregard  of  the  conventions 
by  Margaret  and  Wentworth  caused  Mrs. 
Pen  worthy  to  gather  her  wits  together  a  little. 
She  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  situation  at  the  break 
fast  table  with  a  commonplace,  the  chaperon's 
instinct. 

"I  think,  dear,"  she  said  to  Margaret,  in  a  faint 
voice  which  she  yet  contrived,  plucky  old  woman 
that  she  was,  to  hold  fairly  steady,  "that  I  will  have 
another  cup  of  coffee." 

The  Iqok  of  admiration  that  the  old  lady  got  at 
that  from  McGreal  should  have  repaid,  and  did  help, 
her. 

"The  old  one  is  a  peach,  by  God!"  muttered  the 
sailor,  under  his  breath.  And  then  aloud,  with 
something  of  a  feeling  that  the  diversion  should  be 
helped:  "There  seems  to  be  something  doing  among 
our  Japanese  friends  on  shore!" 

It  completed  the  diversion,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 
Every  one  at  the  breakfast  table,  even  Margaret  and 
Wentworth  for  a  moment,  glanced  toward  the  village 
on  the  beach,  and  saw  the  people  and  the  soldiers 
buzzing  about  there  as  bees  buzz  around  a  hive  dis- 

216 


"SUPPORTS  ARE  COMING  UP"       217 

tiirbed.  The  villagers  were  running  in  and  out  of 
their  huts;  the  soldiers  were  tumbling  out  of  their 
quarters  in  the  village  houses  and  arming  hastily 
to  gather  near  the  guns  on  the  beach;  a  trumpet  was 
sounding  the  alarm;  and,  presently,  a  trooper  riding 
one  shaggy  pony  in  harness,  and  leading  a  second, 
galloped  along  the  strand  toward  the  brass  field 
piece.  He  leaped  to  the  ground  as  he  reached  the 
gun  and,  with  the  help  of  some  of  his  fellows,  hur 
riedly  hitched  the  team  to  the  piece.  Meanwhile, 
a  company  of  troops  was  hastily  forming,  and  from 
the  forest  on  the  hills  behind  the  town  the  camphor 
cutters  could  be  seen  running  to  the  cover  of  the 
village,  some  throwing  their  axes  behind  them  as  they 
ran.  And  the  next  moment  there  came  a  scattering 
volley  from  the  covert  of  the  trees. 

"By  jove!"  cried  Allison,  "an  outbreak  of  the 
natives!  And  we  can  watch  it  as  from  a  box  in  the 
theatre!" 

"And  take  a  hand  in  it,  too,"  cried  Captain  Stod- 
dard,  leaping  up  from  the  table  and  stepping  to 
the  poop  rail.  "I  want  nothing  better  than  a  chance 
at  these  Formosan  pirates!" 

"For'ard  there,  Mr.  Wilson!"  he  yelled.  "Get 
the  jacket  off  that  gun,  and  hoist  some  ammunition 
from  the  f orehold !  Tumble  it  up  lively,  now ! " 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  the  reply  came,  as  the  mate  bustled 
the  men  about  to  obey  orders. 

"I  can  supply  you  gentlemen  with  Lee-Metford 
rifles,"  said  Stoddard,  turning  to  Margaret's  guests. 


218  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"They  have  a  range  of  three  thousand  yards.  That 
should  just  about  put  a  bullet  into  the  front  of  that 
line  of  trees.  It  may  be  possible  to  pick  off  a  savage 
or  two." 

"If  you  will  put  me  aboard  the  Lurline,  Captain 
Stoddard,"  said  McGreal,  who  had  sent  his  yawl  back 
to  his  own  yacht,  "I  will  get  the  jacket  off  her  gun, 
and  arm  her  men.  It  would  be  too  bad  not  to  give 
the  pirates  all  the  squadron  has.  Miss  Graeme 
will  excuse  me,  I  am  sure?  " — with  a  bow  in  Margaret's 
direction. 

"I  have  always  wanted  to  see  men  in  battle," 
she  said,  looking  at  him  with  shining  eyes. 

"It  might  be  a  good  notion  to  get  our  hooks  up  and 
run  in  closer,"  said  Allison,  and  Wentworth,  who  had 
risen  from  the  cable,  drew  nearer  to  the  side  of  Mar 
garet.  Both  young  men  had  the  battle  light  in 
their  eyes  although  each  held  himself  in  strong 
repression. 

"Good!"  cried  Captain  Stoddard.  "And  we'll 
show  our  colours,  too,  by  God!  Honest  flags  will 
give  the  little  Japs  assurance  of  sympathy  and  help 
it  may  be." 

They  had  all  risen  from  the  breakfast  table  now, 
of  course.  McGreal,  turning  to  leave  them,  said 
to  Allison,  who  was  closest  to  him:  "You  two  will 
stay  with  the  ladies,  I  suppose?  " 

Allison,  by  a  gesture,  indicated  Wentworth  and 
Margaret,  left  standing  together,  a  little  apart,  and 
McGreal,  followed  to  the  head  of  the  gangway  by 


"SUPPORTS  ARE  COMING  UP"       219 

Captain  Stoddard,  went  over  the  side  into  the  Petrel's 
yawl,  manned  to  carry  him  to  his  own  vessel. 

"Oh,  before  you  go,  Captain  McGreal,"  said  the 
sailing  master  of  the  Petrel,  "don't  tell  Di  Sousa  I 
asked  about  his  game  chicken,  will  you?" 

McGreal  stopped  before  taking  his  seat  in  the 
stern  of  the  yawl.  "Why  did  you  ask  about  that 
game  cock,  anyway?"  he  queried.  "I  wanted  to 
ask  you. " 

"Another  time  I  will  explain.  I  have  had  my 
eye  on  that  chicken  for  some  time."  Then,  to  the 
men  in  the  yawl:  "Give  way  there,  men!" 

The  yawl  drew  away,  giving  McGreal  no  chance 
to  press  the  question,  and  Captain  Stoddard  went 
back  to  his  own  quarterdeck.  He  saw  there,  first 
of  all  Margaret  and  Wentworth  standing  apart,  with 
clasped  hands,  regardless  now  of  all  that  went  on 
around  them.  They  would  have  stood  thus,  the 
man  and  the  woman,  if  the  whole  world  had  been 
there  to  look  on. 

"You  followed  me — because  you  loved  me,  Mar 
garet?"  Wentworth  said,  while  Mrs.  Pen  worthy 
nearly  fainted,  and  all  the  bustle  of  the  preparation 
for  battle  went  on  aboard  the  yacht.  But  the  man 
and  the  woman  were  at  the  supreme  moment. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

He  took  one  step  nearer. 

"You  still  love  me?" 

"Would  I  be  here,  John?"  She  blushed  as  she 
said  it,  but  she  went  on,  bravely:  "Would  I  have 


220  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

dared  to  ask  you  on  board?  I  followed  you,  be 
cause  I  loved  you,  to  help  you  save  your  father  from 
my  brother.  And  in  that  I  have  failed." 

"It  was  the  will  of  God! "  he  said,  solemnly.  "You 
haveifailed  in  nothing  else.  And  we  have  each  other. " 

"If  you  will  have  my  brother's  sister?  " 

"Or  you,  my  father's  son?" 

It  may  have  been  merely  a  fortunate  chance  that, 
at  the  moment  of  the  meeting  of  their  lips,  Allison 
shouted  to  draw  attention  to  a  movement  on  shore. 
Or  it  may  have  been  that  the  fortunate  chance  was 
taken  advantage  of.  The  friendship  of  men  goes 
far.  And  it  served,  at  all  events.  Even  Mrs. 
Penworthy  looked  away,  at  the  shout  from  the  couple 
who  were  recklessly  rough  riding  over  all  the  fences  of 
her  chaperonage.  It  is  a  real  mercy,  when  an  elderly 
and  precise  woman  can  thus  be  spared. 

This,  it  was,  Allison  had  shouted : 

"Look!     The  battle!     It  develops  on  the  right!" 

There,  on  the  beach,  the  company  of  Japanese 
soldiers  was  moving  around  toward  the  low,  wooded 
point  shutting  in  the  little  harbour  on  the  southward, 
and  the  ponies  were  drawing  the  brass  field  piece 
in  the  same  direction.  Under  the  whips  of  the 
officers,  too,  a  lot  of  the  natives  of  the  town  had  taken 
hold  by  long  ropes  and  were  helping  to  get  the  gun 
forward,  while  there  was  a  huddle  of  the  black  men 
moving  along  in  straggling  groups,  behind  the  soldiers. 

Captain  Stoddard  touched  a  bell,  the  engines  of 
the  Petrel  began  to  cough,  and  the  yacht  swung 


"SUPPORTS  ARE  COMING  UP"       221 

around,  free  of  her  anchors  which  had  already  been 
hoisted  inboard,  and  moved  along  parallel  with  the 
advancing  company  on  the  beach.  The  captain 
touched  Allison  on  the  shoulder,  and  pointed  toward 
the  Lurline.  The  yacht,  too,  was  gliding  toward  the 
wooded  point. 

"The  naval  supports  are  coming  up!"  said  Captain 
Stoddard. 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

IT  is  THE  "NERIED" 

IT  WAS,  perhaps,  three  miles  from  the  anchorage 
of  the  two  yachts  to  the  point.  And  as  the 
Petrel  moved  slowly  forward  with  the  Lurline 
swinging  in  behind  her,  both  going  at  half  speed 
to  keep  abreast  of  the  troops,  she  swung  in  more  and 
more  toward  the  shore.  Both  yachts  had  broken 
out  their  colours;  and  they  made  a  pretty  sight  as 
they  glided  through  the  still  waters. 

Naturally,  with  the  brass  six-pounder  showing  on 
the  forward  deck  of  each,  and  with  the  men  of  the 
crew,  each  armed  with  a  Lee-Metford  rifle,  lining 
the  rails  of  the  vessels  on  the  shoreward  side,  the 
plain  purpose  of  the  yachts  to  take  some  part  in 
the  coming  fight  did  not  escape  the  attention  of  the 
officer  in  command  of  the  Japanese  troops  ashore. 

Within  half  a  mile  of  the  point  the  soldiers  came 
to  a  halt.  From  beyond  the  point  the  sharp  crack 
ing  of  rules  indicated  that  the  firing  was  heavier. 

The  Japanese  officer  in  command  held  a  short 
consultation  with  his  second,  and  from  the  deck  of 
the  Petrel  both  could  be  seen  to  gesticulate  with  some 
emphasis.  Then  the  lieutenant  stepped  toward  the 
beach,  unfurled  a  small  flag,  and  began  to  wave  it 

222 


IT  IS  THE  "NERIED" 

backward  and  forward  in  front  of  his  face  to  some 
measured,  purposeful  movement.  * 

"Wigwag!"  cried  Captain  Stoddard.  "And  he 
spells  out  the  words  in  English ! " 

Then,  turning  to  his  mate,  standing  at  his  side : 

"Give  him  the  signal,  Mr.  Wilson!  I  can  read 
his  message.  He  wants  to  know  our  business.  Tell 
him  we  go  into  the  battle  on  his  side,  and  under  his 
orders." 

In  a  moment  more  a  line  of  bright  signal  flags 
fluttered  from  the  mast  head  of  the  Petrel,  and  al 
most  at  the  same  instant  the  Lurline  showed  the 
same  flags.  The  Japanese  lieutenant  fell  back  to 
his  place.  The  company  formed  up  and  moved 
forward.  The  soldiers  had  accepted  the  naval  sup 
ports. 

From  the  decks  of  the  yachts  their  people  watched 
the  unfolding  of  the  line  of  the  bay  shore  as  they 
might  have  watched  the  unrolling  of  a  panorama. 
The  picture  was  a  most  beautiful  one.  And  it  had 
the  added  interest  that  attends  upon  the  great  moving 
picture  of  life,  that  at  the  end  of  the  film  the  catas 
trophe  would  come.  What  scene  of  vivid  action 
involving  the  development  of  this  catastrophe  would 
the  turning  of  the  point  reveal? 

Of  all  those  who  watched,  only  Went  worth  and 
Margaret  Graeme,  humanly  absorbed  in  each  other, 
wandered  in  thought  in  the  slightest  from  the  ex 
ternals  of  the  scene  in  which  they  were  also  actors. 
He  told  her,  as  they  stood  together  apart  on  the 


224  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

deck  of  the  Petrel,  how  he  had  followed  the  man  he 
believed  to  be  his  father — although  there  was  still 
a  baffling  doubt — across  the  world;  and  of  his  motive 
in  that  pursuit.  And  she  told  him  how,  knowing 
of  his  quest,  and  knowing  that  her  own  wayward 
brother  had  been  in  command  of  the  Halcyon,  she 
had  determined  to  follow,  too,  and  give  her  help  to 
the  man  she  loved.  That  was  the  woman's  first 
purpose. 

Her  plan  had  been  easy  enough  to  carry  out.  She 
was  her  own  mistress,  the  mistress  of  her  own  fortune, 
and  there  was  her  aunt  to  play  propriety.  When 
Allison  sailed  on  the  Korea,  she  went  north  to  Van 
couver  and  took  the  Empress  of  India.  Sailing  four 
days  later,  she  had  beaten  him  by  three  days  into 
Hongkong. 

When  he  bought  the  Lurline,  she  purchased  the 
Petrel,  which  arrived  in  the  port  about  the  same  time. 
Allison  did  not  know  that  he  was  being  followed,  and 
money  procured  her  the  services  of  a  local  detective 
agency  to  keep  her  advised  as  to  his  movements. 
Captain  Stoddard,  an  old  school  friend  of  Mrs. 
Penworthy  but  long  a  vagrant  adventurer  in  the 
China  Seas,  had  been  found  by  a  fortunate  chance 
in  the  Hongkong  Hotel  and  readily  took  command 
of  the  Petrel,  with  a  commission  to  get  her  ready  for 
sea. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  enough,  after  following  the 
Lurline  to  Manila,  to  find  out  about  Captain  Graeme's 
orders  to  take  command  of  the  Neried,  and  then  to 


IT  IS  THE  "NERIED"  225 

follow  the  Lurline  again,  knowing  that  her  people 
would  keep  track  of  the  tramp  steamer.  Margaret's 
point  of  ignorance  was  as  to  the  position  of  her 
brother  in  the  affair.  It  had  been  her  purpose  to  be 
present  when  the  steamer  was  overtaken,  to  save  her 
brother,  it  might  be,  or  her  lover.  And  she  had  not 
meant  to  reveal  the  fact  that  she  was  in  pursuit  until 
that  time.  In  the  position  of  being  the  element  un 
expected,  she  would  gain  strength. 

But  the  storm,  and  the  Lurline *s  unexpected  ar 
rival  in  the  port  of  refuge,  and  her  own  anxiety  lest 
something  should  have  happened  to  Wentworth,  led 
to  a  change  in  her  plan  in  that  regard.  And  she 
had  revealed  herself. 

Little  time  as  these  mutual  explanations  had  taken, 
that  interval  had  sufficed  to  put  the  Petrel  well  up 
to  go  around  the  point.  Naturally,  the  two  yachts 
being  out  from  the  shore  some  hundred  yards,  those 
on  board  would  get  a  glimpse  into  the  next  bight 
of  the  coast  before  the  soldiers  on  the  beach  could  see 
what  it  was  that  they  were  advancing  against.  And 
with  a  mighty  sailor  oath  Captain  Stoddard  saw, 
and  leaped  in  his  excitement  to  point  ahead. 

"By  the  living  God!"  he  cried.  "By  the  living 
God!  TheNeried!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  BATTLE  WITH  THE  FORMOSANS 

THE  words   thrilled    every    heart   on   board 
the  Petrel.    Margaret  and  Went  worth,  ab 
sorbed  as  they  were  in  the  wondrous  selfish 
ness  of  their  love,  looked  away,  each  from  the  other, 
to  that  point  in  the  common  view  that  had  suddenly 
become  the  centre  of  the  human  interest  of  all. 

A  great  iron  steamer,  painted  dull  black,  splotched 
here  and  there  with  big  daubs  of  red,  having  a  double 
funnel  and  two  sticks  and  with  the  marks  of  fierce 
flames  all  about  her  forward  hull,  lay  stranded  on  the 
rocks  of  the  reef  at  a  little  distance  from  the  shore  in 
the  shallows.  The  reef  ran  close  in  here,  marking 
the  entrance  to  a  bight  sheltered  by  high,  rocky 
points;  and  terrific  seas  must  have  run  in  the  storm 
just  at  the  place  where  the  steamer  struck.  Whelmed 
m  these  seas,  the  fire  in  her  had  been  all  but  extin 
guished,  but  little  wreaths  of  smoke  eddying  upward 
from  the  forward  hatch  showed  where  the  embers 
in  her  still  smouldered. 

Resting  on  the  rocks  close  in,  she  had  a  strong 
list  to  the  port  side.  And  from  the  line  of  trees 
fringing  the  beach,  and  from  a  hundred  sampans 
that  clustered  and  ran  backward  and  forward  in 

226 


THE  BATTLE  WITH  FORMOSANS    227 

the  shallows  between  the  ship  and  the  shore,  a  thou 
sand  frantic,  yelling  Formosans  were  attacking  her. 
Those  on  shore  ran  out  into  the  still  water  for  a  little 
way  and  fired  at  close  range  from  their  nondescript 
guns,  and  ran  back,  screaming,  to  the  cover  of  the 
trees.  Those  in  the  sampans  sent  their  craft  dash 
ing  forward  to  fire  at  will  in  running  volleys,  and 
sought  to  clamber  up  the  high,  smooth  hill  of  her  as 
she  lay.  Beaten,  they  fell  back  to  gather  courage 
for  new  assaults  while  making  room  for  other  boats. 

And  of  those  who  ran  out  from  the  cover  of  the 
trees  down  into  the  water  many  did  not  come  back 
again,  but  lay  writhing  in  screaming  agony,  or  quite 
stark  and  silent  on  the  sand.  And  the  deck  of  more 
than  one  sampan  was  slippery  with  blood  which 
dripped  down  and  reddened  the  lagoon  and  the  line 
of  foam  on  the  reef  where  the  lazy  billows  broke. 

For  the  men  in  the  steamer,  although  they  did 
not  fire  one  shot  to  a  hundred  of  their  assailants, 
yet  had  been  so  placed  for  the  defence  by  a  master 
of  tactics  that  every  shot  told.  Rifles  blazed,  now 
and  again,  from  her  open  ports  and  from  the  shelter  of 
her  bulwarks.  Two  men,  skilled  marksmen,  crouched 
in  the  forward  crosstrees,  and  two  more  in  the  main. 
And  the  men  on  the  deck  were  so  changed  and  shifted 
to  cover  threatened  points  as  to  make  the  small  crew, 
reserving  fire  until  the  shots  could  tell,  seem  on  the  de 
fensive  at  every  spot  and  in  sufficient  numbers.  In 
deed,  it  seemed  that  every  shot  from  the  steamer  was 
followed  by  the  scream  of  a  stricken  savage. 


228  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Only  two  men  were  in  plain  sight  on  the  vessel. 
Those  two,  each  with  a  rifle  in  his  hands  and  a  couple 
of  revolvers  belted  to  his  sides,  stood  high  on  the  half- 
burned  bridge  forward,  exposed  to  the  full  fire  of 
the  Formosans.  And  each,  from  time  to  time,  would 
raise  his  gun  and  pick  off  a  savage  as  coolly  as  though 
it  had  been  an  affair  of  trapshooting. 

One  of  the  two,  the  heavily  bearded  one,  Went- 
worth  knew  to  be  the  man  he  sought.  And  if  that 
man  was  not  his  father,  surely  Nature  had  for  once 
cast  two  shapes  of  humanity  in  the  same  mould. 
Barring  the  long  beard,  the  man  in  every  line,  in  every 
motion  of  his  body,  was  startlingly  like  Elliot  Went- 
worth. 

The  other  man  on  the  bridge  Margaret  recognized 
at  once.  There  stood  and  fought  her  lawless  brother, 
and  he  seemed,  with  that  other  at  his  side,  to  bear  a 
charmed  life.  Many  a  wild  savage  must  have  aimed 
his  shot  at  the  pair,  aloft  there,  in  plain  view  and  at 
easy  distance,  directing  the  fighting  of  the  ship  and 
themselves  sending  red  death  swiftly  among  their 
foes.  But  neither  man  seemed,  so  far,  to  have  been 
even  scratched. 

And  just  as  the  wonder  of  it  came  to  the  mind  of 
Margaret  she  saw  her  brother's  rifle — raised  to  draw 
a  bead  on  a  f  oeman — fly  up  in  the  air.  The  stricken 
man  reeled  and  fell  before  his  companion  could  leap 
to  catch  him.  And  even  as  the  bearded  one  sprang 
to  help,  he,  too,  went  down  with  a  bullet  in  his  fore 
head. 


THE  BATTLE  WITH  FORMOSANS     229 

Then  Captain  Stoddard  gave  his  engineer  the  jingle 
bell,  and  the  Petrel  dashed  ahead,  full  speed,  right 
into  the  middle  of  the  fleet  of  sampans  swarming 
about  the  stern  of  the  Neried.  Two  of  the  frail 
boats  of  the  Formosans  she  caught  and  crushed,  and 
the  Lurline,  rushing  right  on  behind  her,  added  two 
to  that. 

The  sampan  men  fled,  in  wild  panic,  for  the  shore, 
many  of  them  leaping  into  the  sea  to  their  death,  at 
the  same  moment  that  the  company  of  Japanese 
soldiers  doubled  around  the  point  and  charged  down, 
after  one  volley,  firing  at  will  as  they  came  into  the 
crowd  of  natives  on  the  beach,  who  were  likewise 
swept  by  a  couple  of  shots  from  the  brass  guns  of 
the  yachts  and  another  from  the  field  piece  of  the 
land  forces. 

The  men  on  the  yachts,  and  one  of  the  women, 
firing  at  will,  and  with  precision,  burned  the  savages 
as  they  took  to  their  heels,  breaking  for  the  cover 
of  the  timber.  Directed  by  McGreal,  inspired  by 
the  example  of  Oleson  and  the  fierce  fighting  energy 
of  that  white  savage,  Andressen,  Allison's  piratical 
mixture  held  stable,  under  the  eye  of  the  Japanese 
soldiery.  The  battle,  indeed,  was  over  in  a  very  few 
minutes  after  the  arrival  of  reinforcements  for  the 
men  in  the  steamer.  No  savage  band  that  ever 
swarms  to  murder  will  abide  disciplined  attack. 

The  Japanese  soldiers  burned  what  was  left  of  the 
sampan  fleet,  and  followed  the  fugitives  into  the 
forest.  There  was  desultory  shooting  among  the 


230  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

trees  for  the  better  part  of  the  day.  But  the  For- 
mosans  knew  their  own  country,  and  it  is  likely  that 
most  of  them  got  away. 

The  Japanese  captain,  after  the  retreat  of  the 
savages,  met  Allison  and  Wentworth  and  the  cap 
tains  of  the  two  yachts  on  the  deck  of  the  wrecked 
steamer,  and  thanked  them  handsomely  for  the  help 
given  him  in  routing  the  islanders.  And  then,  being 
a  Japanese  and  a  gentleman,  he  desired  his  respects 
paid  to  the  ladies,  secluded  with  their  sorrow,  and 
sent  his  post  surgeon  to  look  after  the  two  men 
wounded  on  the  bridge  of  the  Neried.  He  would 
hold  his  men  at  the  place  for  several  days  to  hunt 
down  the  savages,  he  said,  and  asked  that  the  two 
yachts  might  remain  near  the  Neried  during  that 
time. 

At  once  on  boarding  the  steamer  Wentworth 
had  had  his  wounded  father  carried  to  his  own  cabin 
on  board  the  Lurline.  He  lay  there,  pale  and  un 
conscious,  and  Wentworth,  sitting  beside  him,  chafing 
his  cold  hands  and  waiting  for  the  closed  eyes  to 
open,  could  doubt  no  longer.  This  man,  the  man 
who  had  posed  as  an  Englishman,  this  fugitive  with 
bandaged  head  who  had  fled  so  far  to  meet  the  bullet 
that,  striking  his  skull,  had  yet  glanced  without 
penetrating  the  brain;  this  wreck  who  lay  uncon- 
conscious  now,  with  all  his  troubles  left  behind  in 
the  night  into  which  his  soul  was  wandering,  was  the 
great  banker,  the  public-spirited  citizen,  his  father. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

"HIS  NAME  IS  NORMAN  AINSWORTH" 

KlBERT  GRAEME,  under  Captain  Stod- 
dard's  direction,  was  taken  on  board  the 
Petrel.  In  the  white-and-green  cabin  of  the 
yacht,  on  the  captain's  own  bed,  he  lay  dying,  and 
knew  his  destiny  had  found  him.  And  his  old  aunt, 
forgetting  the  conventions  of  a  lifetime  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  grisly  end  of  all  the  conventions,  knelt 
beside  him  to  weep  and  pray. 

"So  this  is  the  end,  Margie,"  Graeme  said,  turn 
ing  to  his  sister  who  sat  on  a  low  chair  beside  his 
bed,  holding  his  hand.  He  had  gone  back  to  the 
baby  name  of  her  childhood  at  the  last.  He  did 
not  ask  how  she  had  come  there,  nor  how  his 
aunt  had  come;  nor  seem  at  all  surprised  to  see 
them.  It  may  be  that  the  soul  begins,  a  little,  to 
cease  to  consider  distance  as  it  prepares  to  take  its 
long  flight. 

Margaret,  with  womanly  strength  commanding 
her  natural  emotion,  pressed  the  hand  she  held,  and 
smoothed  back  the  tangled  hair  of  the  dying  man. 
The  Japanese  surgeon  had  shaken  his  head  when  he 
saw  Graeme,  and  left  a  stimulating  draught,  after 
the  dying  man  had  refused  an  injection  of  morphine. 

231 


232  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"I  want  to  know  my  death,"  he  said.  "I  have 
known  what  a  man  may  of  life. 

"And  so,"  Graeme  repeated,  after  the  surgeon  had 
gone,  "this  is  the  end!  It  is  well  enough.  The 
ending  fits  the  rest." 

Margaret's  lips  moved  silently,  and  she  smoothed  his 
hair.  It  was  the  mother  touch,  and  it  soothed  him. 

"You  pray  for  me,  sister?"  he  said.  Then,  after  a 
little  pause:  "It  does  not  matter.  A  man's  death 
bed  is  not  made  harder  by  a  good  woman's  prayers." 

He  lay  silent,  with  closed  eyes.  He  had  been  shot 
through  the  groin,  and  moaned  from  the  pain  of  the 
wound.  But  he  mastered  himself  with  an  effort. 
Margaret  administered  the  stimulant  left  for  him 
by  the  Japanese  surgeon,  and  then,  for  a  long  time, 
sat  silent,  still  smoothing  his  hair. 

"Robert,"  she  whispered,  at  last.     "Robert!" 

He  opened  his  eyes  at  that,  and  looked  at  her, 
strangely. 

"Did  you  call  me,  dear?"  he  asked. 

"Who  was  the  man  with  you  in  the  Neried  ?" 

"Norman  Ains worth."  The  answer  came  with 
out  the  least  hesitancy. 

"You  know  him  by  no  other  name?" 

"That  was  his  name.  He  had  no  other.  He 
called  himself  Norman  Ainsworth,  and  Harran 
called  him  that,  as  did  the  lawyer,  Chester." 

"Mr.  Harran?"  she  cried. 

"Of  course.  Old  Harran!  You  know  him  well 
enough,  and  so  do  I.  He  got  me  to  go  to  San  Fran- 


"HIS  NAME— NORMAN  AINSWORTH"  233 

cisco  after  Ains worth.  I  was  to  deliver  him  where- 
ever  he  wanted  to  go.  He  seemed  only  to  want 
to  go  with  me — to  travel.  He  had  no  money,  as  far 
as  I  could  find  out,  but,  as  I  had  been  well  paid,  I 
let  him  go.  I  wish  I  hadn't,  now.  He  might  have 
been  alive  yet  if  he  had  stopped  at  some  port.  And 
he  was  a  good  fellow,  although  he  was  crazy  in  the 
head.  That  is,  he  was  a  bit  absent  at  times,  and 
he  thought  he  was  an  Englishman.  That  was  his 
one  delusion.  He  was  entirely  harmless.  And  he 
stood  by  me  like  a  man  in  storm,  and  fire,  and  battle." 

"Mr.  Harran!"  she  repeated,  and,  again,  "Mr. 
Harran?  Are  you  strong  enough,  Robert,  to  tell  me 
how  it  was  that  Mr.  Harran  got  you  your  passenger?  " 

"I  have  told  you!"  he  said,  a  little  peevishly. 
"  Can't  a  woman  even  let  a  man  die  in  peace?  Harran 
wired  me  at  Pedro  to  come  up  and  get  a  passenger 
for  the  Halcyon.  There  was  to  be  $5,000  in  it  for 
me.  But  I  knew  the  old  fox,  and  I  wanted  specifica 
tions.  And  it  was  to  help  a  man  away  with  the  loot 
of  widows  and  orphans — a  bank  defaulter.  I  knew 
that  Harran  was  making  his  profit  of  the  loot,  too, 
but  that  was  nothing  to  me." 

Margaret  was  weeping  softly,  still  holding  his  hand 
and  still  smoothing  his  hair.  He  looked  at  her,  but 
he  did  not  falter.  There  came  a  strange  look  into 
his  eyes,  as  though  his  soul,  loathing  itself,  yet 
scorned  to  hold  anything  back  from  her  condemna 
tion.  And  she  only  wept  for  him. 

"You  would  have  the  tale,"  he  said.     "It  was 


THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

nothing  to  me,  a  crime  the  more  in  a  lawless  life! 
I  have  thought,  since  then,  watching  Ainsworth, 
that  he  was  the  gentlest  criminal  that  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  I  have  lived  with  sinners.  But  it  made  no 
difference  to  me  when  Harran  made  his  offer.  He 
knew  what  my  life  had  been,  and  I  knew.  And  I  had 
served  him  before.  I  was  simply  to  let  a  man  stow 
away,  so  as  not  to  become  involved  with  the  law  and 
her  owners,  and  to  carry  the  passenger  wherever  he 
wanted  to  go.'* 

He  paused,  groaning,  and  lay  silent,  yet  still  with 
his  naked  soul  in  his  eyes. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  at  last,  forcing  her  tears  down, 
f'did  you  know  of  the  failure  of  the  Bank  of  the 
Pacific?" 

"The  Bank  of  the  Pacific?  I  may  have  known. 
Of  course  some  bank  had  failed.  I  do  not  remember 
that  I  heard  the  name." 

He  was  silent  again,  and  she  waited.  When  he 
resumed  the  relation  it  was  with  the  set  purpose  ap 
parent  in  his  tone  to  go  on  with  it  to  the  end. 

"We  had  a  good  run  up  from  Pedro,"  he  said, 
"although  I  lost  a  man  there  whom  I  had  depended 
on.  Running  in  past  Alcatraz,  we  picked  up  a  swim 
mer  close  to  the  island,  nearly  spent  and  delirious 
when  taken  from  the  water,  and  laid  him  in  my  cabin. 
When  I  dropped  anchor  in  the  stream,  Harran  came 
off  in  a  launch  to  tell  me  that  I  was  too  late,  that  my 
passenger  had  drowned  himself  in  the  bay.  I  didn't 
care  a  great  deal  about  that,  being  more  concerned 


"HIS  NAME— NORMAN  AINSWORTH"  235 

with  the  way  the  old  tightwad  was  trying  to  squeeze 
me  in  paying  for  the  steamer's  run  up  from  Pedro;  and 
with  the  risk  I  had  run  with  her  owners  in  having  come 
at  all.  Much  he  cared  whether  I  lost  my  job  or  not ! " 
His  voice  was  growing  weaker,  and  he  motioned 
for  another  dose  of  the  stimulant. 

"It  was  only  when  the  old  man  followed  me  into 
the  cabin  to  hand  me  the  amount  finally  agreed  upon," 
he  went  on,  "that  Harran  saw  the  man  we  had 
picked  up  in  the  bay.  I  thought,  at  first,  that  he  had 
gone  mad. 

"'That's  your  passenger!'  he  screamed.  'That's 
your  passenger!  Where  in  the  name  of  Christ  did 
you  get  him?' 

"It  didn't  take  long  to  tell  him.  He  paid  me 
on  the  nail — cash,  and  some  bonds  that  I  sold  in 
Honolulu.  He  said  the  man's  name  was  Norman 
Ains worth.  And  he  sent  his  trunk  aboard  after  dark, 
and  told  me  to  get  out  of  the  port  as  quickly  as  I 
could.  I  was  willing  enough.  I  cleared  her  and 
went  out  that  night.  The  lawyer  stayed  with  me 
pretty  much  all  the  time  I  was  ashore,  and  both 
Harran  and  the  lawyer  told  me  not  to  let  the  pas 
senger  out  of  my  hands  in  port,  whatever  happened. 
But  the  passenger  did  not  come  to  himself  until 
we  got  well  outside  the  Heads  next  morning.  If 
he  wanted  to  go  back,  he  did  not  say  so.  I  called 
him  Norman  Ainsworth,  and  although  he  hesitated 
sometimes  just  at  first  when  he  heard  the  name 
he  answered  to  it,  and  called  himself  Ainsworth. 


236  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

That  is  all,  as  to  him.  There  has  been  much  evil 
in  my  life  besides,  Margaret." 

"God  will  pardon,  dear!"  she  said.  And  then, 
very  softly:  "Can  you  tell  me  what  happened  at 
Honolulu,  dear?" 

"You  seem  strangely  interested  in  this  man," 
he  said. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"Well,  Harran  cabled  me  to  take  the  Tenyu  Maru 
for  the  East,  and  to  take  Ainsworth  with  me.  That 
gave  me  the  first  intimation  that  somebody  was  seek 
ing  my  passenger.  I  sounded  Ainsworth,  but  he 
seemed  to  know  no  more  than  a  child.  Indeed,  in 
many  ways  he  was  like  a  child.  Harran  had  cabled 
$1,000  with  his  message,  and  as  that  looked  good  to 
me,  I  took  passage  for  the  Far  East.  At  Hongkong 
I  found  orders  from  my  owners  to  go  down  to  Manila 
and  get  ready  to  take  the  Neried  out  to  Iloilo  for 
hemp.  Harran  cabled  us  there  to  hurry,  and  then 
I  knew  that  my  passenger  was  being  followed.  But 
if  it  was  a  chase,  I  could  keep  it  up  as  long  as  the 
next  man.  And  I  did  not  think  the  law  was  in  it 
yet;  or  Harran  would  not  have  been  game  to  do  the 
cabling.  I  was  as  good  a  fighter,  man  to  man,  as 
anybody  who  might  be  on  the  track.  Besides,  I  had 
come  to  like  Ainsworth,  and  I  was  determined  to  save 
him,  whatever  he  might  have  done.  We  did  hurry 
out  of  Iloilo,  and  then  came  the  typhoon,  and  the  fire, 
and  my  loss  of  a  second  steamer.  It  is  well  enough. 
WJien  the  sea  turns  against  a  man  his  time  is  at  hand.*' 


"HIS  NAME— NORMAN  AINSWORTH"  237 

Once  again  he  lay  silent,  only  groaning  at  in 
tervals.  And  Margaret,  stooping  over  him,  weeping 
for  him,  bent  still  lower  to  whisper:  "And  your 
passenger,  Robert?  Forgive  me,  dear,  but  I  have  a 
reason  for  wanting  to  be  very  sure.  You  never 
knew  him  by  any  other  name?  " 

"I  am  dying,"  replied  Robert  Graeme,  looking 
up  at  her.  "His  name  is  Norman  Ainsworth." 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  all  around  them  there 
drifted  a  light  fall,  as  of  ashes.  Only  once  did  he  seem 
to  revive.  Margaret,  from  time  to  time,  put  the  stimu 
lating  draught  to  his  lips,  and  he  took  it,  and  his  flut 
tering  breath  showed  that  life  still  lingered.  But  over 
his  whole  face  that  light  fell  as  if  ashes  had  sifted  down. 

It  was  after  the  administration  of  the  stimulant 
that  he  started  up  in  bed,  throwing  Margaret's  hand 
from  him,  and  seeming  to  grope  for  a  moment,  as  one 
in  the  dark.  Then  his  eyes  cleared.  He  stared  at  the 
woman  sitting  beside  him,  clear-eyed,  now,  facing  the 
death  of  a  wayward  loved  one.  And  recognition  came 
back  slowly  into  the  face  of  the  one  who  was  passing. 

"Margie!"  he  cried,  going  back  once  more  to  the 
childish  name  he  had  used  to  call  her.  "Sister 
Margie!  You  here?  And  Aunty  Pen?  Then,  it 
was  a  dream!  And  I  will  not  be  a  naughty  boy  any 
more,  Aunty  Pen!  Sure  and  honest  I  will  not!'* 

He  settled  back  on  his  pillow  very  slowly,  with  a 
long,  tremulous  sigh.  And  the  tangled  hair  that 
Margaret  Graeme  still  smoothed  and  smoothed  was 
a  dead  man's  hair. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A    SPY — AND    A  GAME   CHICKEN 

THEY   buried   him    under   a   wide-branching 
camphor  tree  on  the  shore  of  that  wild  island 
near  where  he  had  fought  his  last  fight.     And  a 
platoon  of  the  Japanese  soldiers  fired  a  military  salute 
over  his  grave.     That  was  fitting.     He  had  died  like 
a  soldier,  and  he  had  lived  at  war  with  mankind. 

Turning  from  the  grave,  where  Wentworth  stood 
with  bared  head  supporting  the  woman  he  loved 
while  Allison  gave  his  attention  to  Mrs.  Pen  worthy, 
Captain  Stoddard  of  the  Petrel  noted  the  spy,  Di 
Sousa,  in  earnest  consultation  with  the  Japanese 
captain.  And  a  moment  later  the  Eurasian  went 
tracking  through  the  forest  from  the  spot  where  the 
grave  was  toward  the  village.  At  once  the  captain 
hurried  his  people  aboard  the  Petrel.  He  had  a 
purpose  in  that.  It  was  in  furtherance  of  his  purpose 
that  he  asked  Captain  McGreal,  as  he  shoved  off  from 
the  shore,  to  send  aboard  to  him  from  the  Lurline 
Di  Sousa's  prized  game  chicken.  This  McGreal 
readily  agreed  to  do.  He  would  have  done  it  without 
Captain  Stoddard's  assurance  that  possession  of  the 
bird  was  necessary  to  the  success  of  a  play  which 
would  be  explained  later. 

238 


A  SPY— AND  A  GAME  CHICKEN     239 

The  yachts  had  gone  back  to  their  anchorage 
in  the  little  harbour  at  once  after  the  funeral,  and 
when  he  got  the  game  cock  Captain  Stoddard  carried 
it  ashore  with  him  in  his  yawl,  carefully  hidden  in  a 
burlap  sack.  Using  expedition  in  his  movements, 
he  beat  Di  Sousa  into  the  village  easily  enough.  And 
he  waited  for  his  man  with  full  confidence  at  the  door 
of  the  hut  where  the  Japanese  had  set  up  their  tele 
graphic  instruments  in  connection  with  the  cable 
from  Formosa  to  Nagasaki. 

"Hi,  Di  Sousa!"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  spy,  warm 
with  walking,  came  trudging  up  to  the  door  of  the 
hut.  "You  know  me?  " 

"Sar,  yes,"  replied  the  Eurasian.  "I  know  you. 
You  beat  me  at  Macao,  it  is  ten  years  ago,  because 
that  I  did  report  to  the  officer  of  the  French  of  your 
smuggling  arms  to  the  Black  Flags." 

"And  would  have  got  me  shot  if  I  had  not  been 
smart  enough  to  get  away ! "  said  Stoddard. 

"Sar,  that  was  my  duty.  But,  sar,  I  know  you! 
My  bones  hurt,  sometimes,  when  I  sleep." 

"Very  good,"  said  Captain  Stoddard  to  that,  not 
the  least  disturbed.  "Then  you  know  what  I  can 
do.  I  will,  if  you  please,  take  that  cablegram  that 
you  are  about  to  send  to  your  employers  in  Manila. 
And  you  will  come  aboard  the  Petrel  with  me." 

"Sar,"  replied  Di  Sousa,  "I  am  free  mans.  And 
I  will  not.  I  will  report  to  Japanese  officer." 

"Oh,  will  you?"  cried  Stoddard,  opening  the  sack 
as  he  spoke,  and  drawing  out  from  it  the  red  game 


240  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

cock,  which  he  held,  with  affected  carelessness, 
by  the  head.  "Then  I  will  wring  this  rooster's 
neck." 

"Madre  di  Dios  !  Good  senor!  Good  Captain 
Stoddard,"  cried  Di  Sousa,  "keel  me,  sar!  Beat  me! 
Bote  do  not  keel  the  cheecken!" 

The  man's  English  lapsed,  as  he  became  excited. 
Captain  Stoddard  gave  the  cock  a  careless  whirl 
by  the  head. 

"Give  me  the  cablegram,"  he  said. 

Di  Sousa  had  dropped  on  his  knees,  holding  out 
his  hands  imploringly.  He  reached  for  an  inner 
pocket,  now,  and  drew  out  and  handed  a  folded 
paper  to  his  tormentor. 

"Sar,  eet  is  here!"  he  cried.  "I  pray  you,  for 
the  holy  name  of  God,  do  not  keel  the  cheecken!" 

Stoddard  took  the  paper,  opened  it,  and  glanced 
at  it.  "In  cipher,"  he  said,  shortly. 

"Sar,  eet  was  the  order,"  said  Di  Sousa,  still  kneel 
ing,  to  the  amazement,  and  perhaps  a  little  to  the 
amusement,  of  the  few  straggling  villagers  who  had 
gathered  about  the  hut.  "I  pray  you,  spare  the 
cheecken!" 

"Get  up!"  said  Stoddard,  taking  the  spy  roughly 
by  the  neck  and  pointing  him  toward  the  Petrel's 
yawl,  which  lay  on  the  strand.  "There  is  the  road! 
March!" 

He  kept  the  spy  ahead  of  him  to  the  boat,  the 
villagers  following  along,  and  once  there,  tossed 
the  game  cock  to  its  owner.  Di  Sousa  caught  it 


A  SPY— AND  A  GAME  CHICKEN     241 

eagerly,  and  smoothed  its  ruffled  plumage,  and 
crooned  over  it  as  a  mother  croons  over  her  child. 

"Pobrecito!"  he  muttered.  "The  insult!  And 
a  cock  that  was  never  beatened ! " 

And  while  he  mourned,  and  soothed  his  pet,  he 
was  landed  safely  aboard  the  Petrel,  and  turned  over 
to  the  custody  of  the  mate  of  that  vessel.  The 
mate  was  accustomed  to  obey  orders  and — had  such 
orders  as  made  it  very  sure  that  no  report  of  the 
future  doings  of  either  yachting  party  would  get  to 
San  Francisco  through  the  agency  in  Manila  which 
had  sent  out  Di  Sousa. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  deprive  you  of  the  services 
of  your  cabin  steward,"  said  Captain  Stoddard  to 
Wentworth  and  Allison  and  Captain  McGreal  a 
little  later,  going  on  board  the  Lurline  to  explain 
his  scheme.  "But  I  knew  that  fellow  had  been  a 
police  spy.  I  had  some  experience  myself  with  him, 
down  at  Macao,  a  few  years  ago.  A  man  does  not 
spend  ten  years  on  the  China  coast  without  learn 
ing  to  keep  his  eyes  open.  And  when  I  saw  that  chap 
on  your  yacht,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  keep  watch 
on  him.  Of  course  he  would  make  for  the  nearest 
cable  office,  after  what  happened  to-day,  and  I  was 
there  first.  I  have  made  him  read  his  cipher  dispatch 
to  me,  and  all  this  would  have  been  known  in  San 
Francisco  by  now  if  I  had  not  taken  a  hand  when 
I  did." 

"How'd  you  come  to  think  of  the  game  cock?" 
asked  Allison,  with  a  smile. 


242  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"Moral  suasion,"  replied  Stoddard.  "That  cock 
comes  of  a  particular  strain  he  has  bred  a  long  time. 
And  it  is  always  better  to  avoid  mere  brute  force." 

"I  suppose  we  will  have  to  make  our  own  cocktails, 
now,"  said  Allison,  sadly. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

SHADOW     AND     SUNSHINE 

THAT  evening,  after  the  unmasking  of  the 
spy,  Margaret  and  Wentworth  sat  together 
on  the  deck  of  the  Petrel,  and  Margaret  told 
her  lover  all  that  her  dying  brother  had  said  with 
reference  to  his  passenger. 

"He  gave  no  other  name  than  Norman  Ainsworth, 
dear,"  Margaret  said.  "Robert  was  told  that  he 
was  a  fugitive,  a  defaulter  whom  Harran,  for  a  pur 
pose  of  his  own,  wanted  kept  out  of  the  way.  Har 
ran  and  Chester  were  to  have  put  him  on  board  the 
Halcyon  in  San  Francisco  Bay,  but  by  a  most  strange 
coincidence  Robert  picked  him  up,  swimming  but 
near  spent,  off  Alcatraz.  Harran  found  him  there, 
in  Robert's  cabin,  and  hurried  the  steamer  to  sea. 
Robert  discovered,  when  his  passenger  came  to  him 
self,  that  his  mind  was  enfeebled." 

"What  was  it  that  destroyed  his  mental  poise, 
I  wonder?"  mused  Wentworth. 

"Could  it  have  been  the  result  of  that  auto  ac 
cident?  They  must  have  played  upon  him  shame- 
fully." 

"Has  he  recovered  consciousness?"  asked  Mar 
garet. 

243 


244  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

"No.  The  Japanese  surgeon,  whom  I  left  with 
him  in  my  cabin  on  the  Lurline,  says  that  he  has  had 
in  the  past  some  great  physical  shock,  leading  to  a 
gradual  loss  of  himself.  I  had  thought  that  he  re 
covered  completely  from  that  auto  accident,  the  only 
physical  shock  I  have  ever  known  him  to  sustain. 
He  never  complained.  Whatever  it  was,  the  Japa 
nese  surgeon  says  that  the  shock  of  this  present 
wound  in  the  head,  if  he  recovers  it,  may  serve  to 
counterbalance  the  old  shock.  But  it  is  only  a 
chance.  The  surgeon  also  says  it  is  possible  that  he 
may  awaken  to  complete  imbecility.  The  wound 
itself  is  not  mortal.  Reason  may  be  utterly  de 
stroyed." 

He  sighed  deeply  as  he  spoke. 

"Ah,  well,"  he  went  on.  "I  have  my  life's  duty 
before  me.  I  must  watch  and  care  for  him.  I  will 
help  him  back  to  his  old  place  in  the  world,  if  I  may. 
There  is  much  to  be  cleared  away.  I  must  ease  his 
way  to  another  world,  if  it  is  to  be  that  he  will  come 
no  more  to  the  daylight  of  man's  reason  in  this." 

"It  is  our  life  duty,  dear  heart!"  whispered  Mar 
garet,  taking  his  hand,  and  holding  it. 

The  two  yachts,  in  company,  sailed  out  through 
the  opening  in  the  reef  next  day,  and  squared  away 
for  Hongkong.  The  crew  of  the  Neried  had  been 
divided  between  them,  and  the  boy  who  had  wept 
alone  in  the  stern  of  the  burning  ship  took  the  vacant 
place  as  cabin  steward  on  board  the  Lurline — al- 


SHADOW  AND  SUNSHINE  245 

though  he  did  not  know  a  cocktail  from  soft  toddy, 
as  Allison  said,  plaintively.  Each  sailor  in  the  crew 
of  the  burned  ship  had  a  wonderful  tale  to  tell  of  how 
the  steamer — all  afire  in  her  forward  hold,  driven  on 
before  the  storm  and  driving  with  her  engines  in  a 
mad  effort  to  reach  the  beach — had  struck  the  sharp 
reef  and  been  caught  and  whelmed  in  the  tremen 
dous  seas  that  drove  clear  over  her,  flooding  the  open 
hatches,  and  all  but  extinguishing  the  flames.  They 
were  seas  such  as  not  even  the  oldest  seaman  among 
them  had  ever  seen  before,  and  their  force  had  left 
the  Neried  stranded  where  the .  natives  had  found 
and  attacked  her  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  WICKED   CEASE   FROM   TROUBLING 

BEING  an  extract  from  a  letter   written  by 
Mr.  Frederick  Upson,  of  San  Francisco,  and 
addressed  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Wentworth, 
on  board  the  yacht  Petrel,  harbour  of  Manga  Riva, 
Fiji  Islands. 

Oh,  you  two  turtle  doves!  To  go  sailing  off  there 
across  the  sunlit  tropic  seas  while  we  toil  and  moil 
in  this  great  mill  whose  grist  is  gold,  only  and 
always  gold!  And,  that  reminds  me!  I  have 
gathered  from  the  bin  of  the  mill  a  very  considerable 
quantity  of  that  same  grist,  which  I  have  deposited  to 
the  order  of  the  male  member  of  your  Happiness 
Association  (Unlimited).  This  particular  grist  I 
have  taken  care  to  deposit  with  my  own  banker, 
where  it  will  be  entirely  safe,  and  where  it  is  subject 
to  draft. 

Allison  came  into  port  safely  in  the  Lurline,  after 
sailing  right  slap  across  the  Northern  Pacific  with 
his  pirate  crew,  every  villain  of  which  is  devoted  to 
him.  He  delivered  your  letters,  and  the*  spy,  Di 
Sousa,  into  my  hands.  I  laughed  and  laughed 
when  I  heard  how  that  sturdy  old  reprobate, 

£46 


THE  WICKED  CEASE  TROUBLING     247 

Stoddard,  used  a  game  rooster  to  hold  up  a  cable 
gram  to  the  private  detective  agency  in  Manila,  and 
then  kidnapped  the  detective  on  the  ground  bodily. 

Di  Sousa  sails  for  the  Far  East  in  the  China  next 
Wednesday,  and  if  a  golden  salve  may  heal  a  wounded 
spirit,  he  will  go  away  happy.  I  regret  that  the 
real  artistry  of  mixing  cocktails  must  go  back  to 
that  far  country  with  him.  I  tried  to  get  him  to 
teach  Brooks,  who  seems  to  have  fastened  himself 
upon  me  for  my  sins,  but  that  villain  never  could 
catch  the  knack  of  mixing  and  drinking  in  reason 
able  moderation  at  the  same  time.  And  so  Di  Sousa 
carries  his  art  across  the  seas.  They  seem  to  have 
all  the  delights  of  life  beyond  Suez.  You  will  be 
glad  to  hear  that  the  game  chicken,  which  Di  Sousa 
is  taking  home  with  him,  is  pert  and  cocky.  And  so, 
let  the  pair  of  them  go! 

With  the  weapons  that  Allison  put  into  my  hands, 
coming  back  to  more  serious  concerns,  my  game  was 
easy.  The  fact  that  E.W.  was  alive,  and  apparently 
on  the  road  to  complete  recovery  of  reason,  made 
a  strong  card.  The  information  E.  W.  had  already 
given  relative  to  the  sequestration  of  certain  trust 
securities,  in  which  Harran  and  Chester  figured, 
put  the  proof  into  our  hands  that  these  two,  and 
these  two  alone,  had  known  and  traded  upon  E.  W.'s 
failing  mentality  following  that  hurt  on  the  head  in 
the  Park  auto  accident  from  which  all  the  balance 
of  his  friends  thought  he  had  made  complete  re 
covery. 


248  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

The  discovery  of  that  condition,  in  fact,  armed 
us  with  the  absolute  knowledge  that  Harran  and 
Chester  had  as  free  access  to  the  bank's  vaults  as 
E.  W.  himself  had  after  they  had  discovered  his 
weakness.  The  fact  that  these  two  arch  scoundrels 
had  planned  to  shanghai  E.  W.  on  board  the  Hal 
cyon,  in  effect,  and  then  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
trick  fate  played  him  in  being  picked  up  by  that 
very  steamer  to  hurry  her  out  of  port,  gave  us  the 
moral  certainty  that  they  had  driven  him  to  frantic 
desperation  on  the  day  the  bank  closed  its  doors. 
Probably  he  had  not  meant  to  come  back,  when  he 
swam  out  into  the  bay  from  the  bathing  place  at 
North  Beach.  It  seems  certain,  at  all  events,  that 
he  had  no  clear  realization  of  his  condition,  nor  of 
what  he  did.  But  his  own  action,  and  the  accident 
of  his  being  picked  up  by  the  Halcyon,  served  the 
original  purpose  of  Harran  and  Chester  as  well  as 
they  themselves  could  have  served  it.  They  got  him 
out  of  the  way,  and  the  world  believed  him  dead,  and 
could  blame  him  as  it  liked. 

The  certificate  of  the  English  army  surgeon  at 
Hongkong,  in  line  with  the  opinion  of  the  Japanese 
surgeon,  was  of  the  most  value.  That  opinion  alone — 
showing  that  the  patient  suffered  from  delusions 
following  a  hurt  on  the  head  and  would  probably 
recover  his  mental  poise  completely  by  reason  of  the 
counteracting  nervous  shock  from  the  gunshot 
wound,  which  would  neutralize  the  effect  of  the  for 
mer  injury — would  have  given  us  the  line  we  needed, 


THE  WICKED  CEASE  TROUBLING    249 

even  if  E.  W.  himself  had  not  directed  our  efforts  to 
some  extent  by  what  he  has  already  been  able  to 
tell.  And,  lastly,  there  was  the  disastrous  mistake 
of  Chester  in  letting  out  of  his  own  hands  the  bonds 
sold  by  R.  G.  in  Honolulu.  Altogether,  I  considered 
my  case  pretty  complete. 

And  it  was.  I  called  on  Chester  in  the  fullest 
confidence  that  I  could  make  him  crawl.  You 
should  have  seen  us  sparring!  It  was  a  real  lesson 
in  free-hand  courtesy  between  enemies  who  hated 
each  other.  I  don't  believe  we  called  a  thing  in  the 
world  by  its  right  name  during  the  whole  course  of 
the  talk. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  showdown,  I  had  the 
#oods  on  him  all  right.  And  we  arrived  at  results. 
That  is  to  say,  I  arrived  at  results.  Chester  found 
it  necessary  to  telephone  for  Harran  after  an  exceed 
ingly  uncomfortable  half  hour. 

The  old  man  came  down  to  the  bank  in  a  tearing 
rage.  It  was  cyclonic,  really  typhoonic,  if  you  can 
get  a  clearer  realization  of  my  meaning  from  that 
descriptive  adjective.  It  really  looked  as  though  he 
thought  that  he  could  bluster  the  thing  out,  until  I 
showed  him  a  card  or  two  in  my  hand,  and  hinted  at 
the  possible  return  of  E.  W.  to  San  Francisco,  clothed 
and  in  his  right  mind. 

Then  he  whines.  And  his  whining  was  to  such 
purpose  that  I  have  been  able  to  put  a  million  to 
John's  credit  with  my  bankers.  I  was  careful  to 
rtore  this  spoil  in  that  safe  place.  And  I  will  Ir* 


250  THE  TYPHOON'S  SECRET 

Harran  alone  for  the  present,  unless  I  hear  some  more 
talk  about  that  United  States  senatorship.  If  that 
conies  up  again,  something  is  likely  to  happen. 

There  is  nothing  else  here;  except  that  Allison  has 
gone  back  to  Honolulu  in  the  Lurline. 

And,  so,  sail  on,  you  turtle  doves,  across  the  sunny 
waves!  If  E.  W.  fully  recovers  health  and  strength, 
with  the  sea  air,  and  the  restful  life  on  the  yacht,  and 
the  contemplation  of  the  peaceful  picture  of  the  hap 
piness  of  his  children,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  talk 
then  of  bringing  him  back  to  the  battlefield. 

But  it  is  a  matter  for  John  to  decide,  or  for  E.  W. 
himself,  perhaps.  I  have  things  in  line  at  this  end. 
The  decision  can  wait.  It  would  be  nothing  new, 
nor  very  surprising,  for  this  town  to  have  its  gods 
pulled  down  about  its  ears  with  a  run.  San  Fran 
cisco  has  set  up  many  gods — and  will  set  up  many 
more. 


THE   END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS.  GARDEN  CITY,  NEW    YOXK 


001  248041    4 


